To Tame the Wild
by Scribblez09
Summary: After a series of heinous acts of vengeance, Jack has been apprehended by the law, only to be taken to Bonnie's ranch as a slave for recompense of his crimes. The months that follow teach him the value of life and how to become an honorable man. The greatest lesson he finds is the growing relationship he shares with his supervisor, a mysterious woman who refuses to share her story.
1. Part 1: Estancia

**At long last, the sequel to Dead Man's Gun! Jack's story continues, but he's not alone in this part, and he hates it, to be frank. To my followers and reviews, a HUGE thank-you! I always grin like an idiot and squirm in my seat whenever I read your reviews, and I am so honored to be the one who you all follow eagerly! So THANK YOU! And enjoy Part 1 of To Tame the Wild.**

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**Chapter Track: Estancia - Bill Elm and Woody Jackson, Red Dead Redemption soundtrack  
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**Part 1:**

**Estancia**

Jack awoke groggily to the sounds of a rooster crowing and horses trumpeting. Dazed, his head pounding from the blow he'd received two nights before, he gave an exhausted, miserable moan and ran his hands sleepily over his face. In a flash, he recalled the events that brought him here to this sad, dreadful end in his jail cell at MacFarlane's ranch. His rampage left him with the spirit-crushing figures: he'd killed fifteen people…Edgar Ross was the first of many people, and although that man's death was justified, the other fourteen victims weren't. He wasn't able to control his trigger twitch, and now, he was paying the price for it. In utter shame, he rested the crook of his arm over his face and gave a despairing sigh, his hand-cuffs jingling as he moved his arms.

"Rise and shine, princess."

He jumped at the feminine voice and sat violently up in his cell bed. His heart skipped in his chest before hammering wildly in a frantic beat. He sat panting and looking about for the location of the voice; he was confused and a bit disturbed to find the woman who had been haunting his dreams the night before, the woman who single-handedly incarcerated him and threw him in his cell, to be sitting in his prison so calmly. Despite his fright, he sat staring at her, entranced by her fierce, rugged beauty.

Her long dark hair fell down her shoulders, covering her chest as she sat on her chair with her elbows resting on her knees. She sat in the far corner of the cell, and even though she wasn't too far away, she leaned forward to make him uneasy. She wore the same attire, he saw her in from yesterday: dark brown pants and boots, dark grey vest and duster, and a tan shirt. She took her black Stetson hat off her head to run a hand through her long, lustrous hair. Setting her hair back on her head, she looked at Jack through her long eyelashes, her hat shadowing her face save for her lips that twitched into a bemused smirk.

"So," she began in a sarcastic, bored undertone, "you're the infamous Jack Marston, son of John and Abigail Marston."

Still panting, eying her warily, Jack narrowed his eyes and frowned at her. He looked her up and down, returning the sardonic countenance, and snapped back, "Yeah. What's it to ya, lady?"

She gave him an unimpressed frown. "Huh…You don't look like much up close. I was expecting as much when I first saw your worthless hide in that jail cell in Armadillo yesterday." She picked up a file folder from the floor beside her chair and sat it on her lap. She nodded down to the folder and continued, "And after reading your file from Blackwater, I'm all the more positive of my opinion of you."

His eyes snagged on the folder; he swallowed thickly, his unease steadily growing. "What? You…You read my file?" He scoffed, feigning aloofness. "What the hell for?"

Picking up the folder from her lap, she stood up and paced the length of the cell slowly, thoughtfully, in front of him. He watched her with a scrutinizing eye, curious and waiting for her to continue. She glanced down at him occasionally, her full lips pursed. "A wise man once said "Know thy enemy"," she began matter-of-factually, folding her arms behind her back as she paced on. "Well, that's what I'm doing, Mister Marston. You see, with every scum I've got after, with every bounty I've brought in, I've read their file beforehand. Knowledge is a beautiful, useful thing, Jack, especially in the case of dealing with outlaws like you. I could've _easily _brought you in myself and gotten the thousand dollars with no harm done and no fussin' about, if it weren't for Bonnie intervening when she saw me pluck your wanted poster off the side of this building. See, she's gotten it in her head that you deserve a second chance at life and all that bullshit. But me? I don't share that sentiment."

Quite suddenly, before he could blink and comprehend, she stopped in front of him, drew her pistol, and pressed the barrel against his forehead. Jack stiffened, yet again caught unawares of her swift draw and uncanny dialogue. His eyes widened a fraction as he stared up at her above the silver barrel of her firearm.

"You see, with _your _special case," she continued, glaring down at him with unwavering eyes, "I have half the mind to blow your brains out all over the back wall of this cell right now." Her index finger moved into position, hugging the trigger slightly. Her brown eyes pierced through him, seeing the miniscule worth of his soul and life. To her, he was absolute trash, just another bounty to be brought to justice, just another transaction and a handful of cash to cram into her pocket. "But I won't. Bonnie is the boss 'round here, and I respect her wishes, however foolish they may sometimes be." As swiftly as she drew, she holstered her pistol before hefting the file folder in both hands and opening it. Her eyes scanned the pages within, skimming and extracting the information she sought.

Once more mystified at the woman, Jack shook his head and asked, "Who _are _you, lady?"

She looked at him from her paraphrasing to give him an admonishing glare. "That's no concern of yours, Mr. Marston. I like to keep an ambiguous relationship with the men I hunt down and bring in. Hell, I'm even comfortable if you didn't even ask me a damn thing."

"Well, that's bullshit if I ever heard it," he shot back. "So this is an interrogation?" He motioned to the file she held. "I don't think that's necessary, seeing as you have my history and all in the palm of your hands."

She ignored his interjections as she began pacing once more, further annoying him. "Let's see…," she murmured as she traced her right index finger down the paper. "Horton, Andrew, and Frank Gossler, a father and two sons who you've mercilessly shot down…John Cosak, Bill Enderson, Franklin Wesley, Robert Ericson, Bob Kessler, Adam Gregson, and Phillip Masters…all seven of Blackwater's finest upcoming lawmen, now all dead thanks to your reckless gunmanship…and from two nights ago, your lists grows with four more victims, Horace Grace, Eli Mistlemer, and Dick Grainger, three of Armadillo's finest sheriffs now gone, all shot in the head without a second thought. And lastly, the respectable Emily Potters, the only daughter of the Potters family and who you've killed in a split second."

As she read off the list, she accentuated each name on purpose, making Jack squirm and fidget in his seat. He stared down at his handcuffed hands, unable to look at anything else as his shame and guilt engulfed him.

The second she finished with the list, the woman closed the folder with a harsh slap and, looking up at him, demanded, "Tell me, Jack, do you enjoy killing men, specifically lawmen and the occasional innocent woman? Do you gain pleasure in taking people's lives, ending innocents with a bullet to the head?"

With a scoff, he responded, "Well, since I'm under the full force of your interrogation and since you're so eager to listen to an answer you already know is coming, I suppose I do. But it's not like them lawmen and government agents were any better than me. They see someone like me, a man-"

"A _villainous coward_," she corrected.

"-A man who's been wronged many times over, and they decide to go after him, shooting without question. I've been pursued, miss, make no mistake about that, but _I _wasn't the one opening fire and raising hell on my horse."

"So your actions afterwards, after gunning down seven lawmen who shot at you first, you think your reasoning to kill them was justified?"

Jack threw up his hands up in outrage. "_It was self-defense, lady! _What else was I supposed to do?"

She glared blatantly down at him, not impressed. "You could have stopped and given yourself up to them."

"Like they would've given me the chance! They opened fire on me in the middle of nowhere, around Hennigan's Stead as I was riding along minding my own goddamned business!"

"So what about the marshal and two sheriffs that rode up to your house before that?" she demanded sharply. "What about Horton, Andrew, and Frank Gossler? How do you explain your reasoning then? "Self-defense"?"

"I…" He fell silent, bereft of a logical answer. His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to explain himself, but to no avail.

"Admit it, Marston. You shot them all in cold blood."

"I DID NOT!" he yelled, standing up in his outrage. He was taller than her by a foot, but she held her ground and accepted the stare-down he'd initiated. "They had no business riding onto my property like that unannounced! They scared me is all…"

She shoved her face into his, their noses a hands-breadth away as she argued, "So you're saying you were frightened of these three when all they were doing was investigating the disappearance of Edgar Ross?" Her eyebrows narrowed suspiciously as she searched his eyes, looking for deception. "What were you afraid of, Marston? What were you so afraid of that made you gun down those men without a second thought?"

He hid his surprise well; his mask of anger and cold-hearted distance kept him from revealing his deepest secret. _Oh God_, he thought. _Does she know? Does anyone know?_

"And what about the two sheriffs you assaulted, Jonah and Eli? You shot Jonah, amazingly not killing him for being such a "sharp shooter" you claim to be, and you shot Eli's hand before pistol-whipping him when he tried apprehend you. What about those two? According to them, it was _you _who rode up to them and initiated the shooting and¾"

"Those two dumb bastards had it coming," Jack interjected. "It's not like they were doin' much of their jobs anyways."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. "_That's _your reasoning? They were stupid, so you attacked them? So you kill people based on the assumption of one, whether or not they're lawmen, and two, whether or not they're intelligent enough." She shook her head, speechless at his stupidity. "You really are a dumb-shit, Mister Marston."

When his silence left her statement dissipating in the thin space between them, the woman backed away and sat back down on her chair, plopping the file folder on the floor beside her seat. She took off her hat and ran a hand through her hair in agitation-her lack of progress was astoundingly frustrating. Slapping her hat back on, she tugged it down and said, "You're a tough one to read, Jack. I don't think I've ever met a man as stupid as you." She kept her seething gaze fixed on the floor between their boots.

Jack had to guffaw at this as he sat back down on his bed. With a nod, he replied, "And I've never met a more manlier woman than you." He looked her over then, once again becoming transfixed by what he saw. He couldn't help himself: despite his gargantuan dislike of her, she was quite nice to look at, when she wasn't threatening him at gunpoint.

Unexpectedly, she jumped back on her feet, drew her pistol, and once again held it to his forehead. Not amused by this, Jack gave her a skeptical look, an eyebrow cocked and a frown tugging the corners of his lips down, as if to say, "Really?"

"Did you have anything to do with the disappearance of Edgar Ross?" she hissed venomously down at him, her eyes ablaze in a sort of retributive way.

He locked eyes with her, still not bowing out of her supposed interrogation. He kept his mouth shut, merely keeping the same annoyed countenance.

"ANSWER ME! Did you kill him?!"

"No," he lied brilliantly, his voice soft and low and refrained of deception. "No, I did not."

With a frustrated growl, she holstered her gun and paced the cell once more, her gait slightly faster. Her lips were pursed tightly, her hair flowing behind her as she kept her eyes to the floor and thought of what to do next to get answers out of him. Her spurs tinked and jingled loudly in the enveloping silence.

Jack chuckled, breaking the silence. Amused by her failed attempts, he watched her with a sneer and asked, "So, are you some sort of _bounty hunter _or _law-woman_, then? I didn't know they let little girls do that sort of shit."

The next thing he realized, he was laying sideways across his bed, his jaw throbbing from the hard punch he'd received from her. In shock, he lay there, finding it difficult to grasp the idea that she'd just struck him, and very hard, too.

"I'm not some 'little girl', Mister Marston," she warned darkly, popping her knuckles to emphasize her point as she stood over him. "And I'd appreciate it if you never spoke to me like that again. I am _not _opposed to shooting you, so keep that in mind."

Gingerly caressing his jaw, he sat back up and glowered up at her. "Go ahead, lady. Shoot me. It's not like I've got much else left to live for, 'cept rot away in this jail and work my ass off like a slave at this ranch." Emphasizing _his _point, he spread his arms out wide in open invitation at the prospect of ending his suffering.

Surprise crossed her beautiful face for the first time, followed by what appeared to be empathy. She cocked her head slightly to the side as she said with curious observation, "Hmm…You're not afraid of death, I see. Most men cower and give up anything at the threat of death. But _you_…you're somethin' different." She straightened her head and questioned softly, "What _do _you fear, Marston? The promise of a life with purpose in it? A life of responsibility and honor and hard work?"

He blinked, confused by her sudden change of heart and approach to her game of questions. "What are you gettin' at here, lady?"

She shrugged nonchalantly as she leaned back in her chair, picking up the file folder once more and thumbing through it. "I'm merely curious is all, questioning you for answers, furthering my chances of figuring you out. I want to know your motives…or lack thereof."

She looked back up at him as he laughed dryly, throwing back his head at the absurdity of it all. "'Motives'," he chuckled. "Well, I'd say that if I see a dumb lawman with half a brain and no balls hiding behind a badge, I suppose I get the trigger twitch. Does _that _count?"

She blinked once, her expression changing into a blank, unimpressed stare. "Very funny, Jack. I'm laughing hysterically," she muttered back in a monotone.

Fed up with the questions and forceful prodding, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he asked, "So what about you? You've asked me my motives and all such sort of nonsense. So now it's my turn. What's _your _story?" He rested his chin on a balled fist, looking overly eager to get answers from her.

Her brown ovals quickly became dark slits of anger. "We're _not _talking about my history, criminal or not. And for your information, mister, I _have _no record of mass murder and robbery like you, if that's what you're playing at."

He chortled and sat back up, throwing his hands up in a mock gesture of surprise. "So! It's all for me, huh? The questions, the punches, the threats. Damn! I'm _flattered!" _Giving her a sly wink and a grin, he folded his arms and sat waiting for some sort of sharp remark.

She sighed, perturbed, and shook her head. "I reckoned you wouldn't be easy to get information out of, but I _never _would've guessed you'd be as stubborn as a Mexican's jack-ass."

"And I never would've guessed you'd be able to throw that hard of a punch," he confessed with a snort, caressing his jaw and wincing. "I guess we're both in over our heads, aren't we?"

"Sure, Jack. Sure." She crossed her right leg over her left and folded her arms over her chest, sizing him up pound for pound as she did so.

Jack stared back, feeling self-critical as she looked him over. Like a show-stallion, he puffed out his chest and lifted his chin, trying to appear as masculine as possible under her scrutinizing eye. He couldn't help but look her over as well; he couldn't help but like what he saw. She held an irresistible charm about her. She was direct, that was for sure, in her mannerisms and speech, and she acted brutish like that of a man but with all the graces of feminine authority. The fact that she looked damned good in her tailored man's clothing and was able to do her job just as good as any lawman impressed him greatly.

_But the bitch still punched me_, he thought with a slight scowl. _And she sure can be _quite _annoying, with all her probing and prodding at my business…But still…She's not bad-lookin'. Not at all. _He grin returned as he thought on, _I bet I could put a smile on _that _pretty face._

His thoughts were interrupted when she demanded suddenly, her voice darkening, "What? You likin' what you see? Well, stop that shit before I stove your face in with my boot!" She uncrossed her legs and, twisting one of her boots to the side, she showed him her shiny, sharp spurs and nodded down to them. "You ever heard of a Mexican tattoo, Marston? Well, let me tell you somethin', _boy_, if you keep this shit up, I'll gladly give one to ya on your neck if you keep gawking at me like that."

Her threat and acute observations startled him; speechless, he cleared his throat and looked out the window to hide his face as he blushed. He noted it was at least six-thirty by the position of the sun in the morning sky. Outside, he could hear the ranch hands stirring about doing chores, horses blowing and neighing, chickens clucking and crowing, and the creaks and groans of wagons as the plodding of horse hooves as travelers passed through. His heart sank as he remembered what was to be expected of him from now on. The pleasure he felt from eying the beautiful woman in front of him, and the conversation between them earlier-albeit aggressive and odd-was dashed and thrown aside as he sighed and accepted his new fate, much to his chagrin.

"So…," he began, clueless as to how to start up a conversation after such an awkward spat.

"So," she agreed, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she asked, "So when are you gonna tell me your motives, your story?"

He snorted as he looked back into her captivating brown eyes. For a moment, he almost lost his train of thought. "I'll answer that question as soon as _you _tell me _yours_."

She scowled at him and stood abruptly. "Get up and get ready, and be quick about it. You've got a lot of work to do today, and we're already cuttin' into your work time. So giddy up, Marston. Hop to it." Quickly, she turned and opening the cell door and leaving it open so he could exit. She stopped and waited for him by the doorway, not once looking back at him.

Jack watched her leave, perplexed and yet amused: it bothered him how much pleasure he got from seeing her storm away, not because he had beaten her at her own game, but Lord…to watch her leave, especially when the morning breeze caught her duster and blew it up as she stormed off. He noted how well-fitted her pants were, and how lovely the view of her was from behind. With a grin that he kept only to himself, he followed her outside and toward the start of his new life.

* * *

"C'mon, _princess! _I don't see that fence post movin' any further!"

"Call me that _one more time _and I'll reconsider my rule of not hitting a woman!"

She had called him "princess", along with a vast assortment of other feminine titles, at least ten times already that day, and it wasn't even noon. Irate at his new nickname and at the stubborn rotting fence post that refused to uproot, Jack threw his entire weight forward, locking his elbows and pushing with his whole body. His gloved hands seized the post in a claw-like grip, his handcuffs jingling and jangling, and he grappled with the post, pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling, as it wobbled up and out of its deep embedment in the rock-hard ground. Sweat, dirt, and manure stained his white shirt; his red neckerchief was drenched. He had abandoned his duster hours ago when his labor began to get the best of him, and he started to sweat like never before. He could smell himself, it was that horrendous. But it wasn't just his body odor that plagued his nostrils: an array of scents assailed him as he recalled what all he had done so far that morning: he had fed the livestock, milked the cows, collected the chicken eggs out of the coop, mucked the horse stalls and the stable, and now he was tearing down a broken section of the cattle corral. According to the woman, the cattle had broken the fence the day before after they spooked when a small pack of coyotes tried to take down one of the weaker calves. So now, it was just another task to check off her mental list she'd come up for him, just another waste of his time and energy. Luckily for him, the cattle had already been driven to pasture while he was mucking stalls. While he assumed Bonnie and the others didn't trust him on horseback yet, he figured they would have him start on a multitudinous list of smaller, dirtier chores. He merely scoffed at it all; he had done it all before, back when Beecher's Hope was running and his parents were alive and well.

But now, he had his work cut out for him. Now, it was a challenge of his strength, patience, and above all, tolerance of the troublesome woman who constantly shouted obscene names and words at him. As he panted and struggled, she stood beside him, holding her Henry repeater before her as an unnecessary precaution as she oversaw his work. To him, she was a constant annoyance, a brutish tyrant happy to watch him slave away at pointless labor.

"Put some muscle into it, boy!" she chided, obviously enjoying herself as she watched him struggle. A smile was evident in her voice, though it didn't register on her face, but she was still having quite a gay old time. "C'mon, WORK!"

Fed up with her "encouragements", Jack gave a mighty roar as he pushed forward for the last time, his anger finally getting the best of him and enhancing his strength. At last, the post had been uprooted; it fell forward, nearly taking him along with it had he not have righted himself and his footing. Straightening up from his bent position, Jack stood glaring homicidally at her, his chest heaving and his skin glistening with sweat.

In between gasps, he admonished darkly, "For the last…time…_DON'T_…call me…"princess"!"

"Oh, but it fits you _so well!" _she chortled, motioning to his soiled white shirt with a nod. "Oh, but look! Your pretty white shirt has been dirtied up!" She puckered her lips forward in a taunting pout, as if speaking to a toddler before letting slip a bellowing laugh that worsened Jack's mood. "Poor little thing! This work is just too much for you, I reckon!"

"This comin' from the bitch who's been standin' there all day watching me work," Jack shot back, in no mood for her games. It was only his first day, and he was already tempted on adding her name to his list of innocents killed, although he figured he had a viable reason for her murder. _She's so goddamned annoying!_ he thought with a snarl as he picked up the last of seven fence posts he'd uprooted and carried it over to the gate, where the other six were laying in a pile. Not giving a damn, he threw the post on top of the pile and gave a loud, "FUCK!" when the last fence post caused the pile to tumble down and fall about the ground. Grumbling, he bent over and tidied it up, knowing the woman would taunt him and yell at him for ruining the pile, before straightening back up and looking over his shoulder at her.

She strolled over to him, an amused smirk on her face.

"What's so damn funny?" he snapped as he turned to face her.

She nodded to the fence post pile and said, "You're catching on. Being tidy and organized helps keep a ranch goin', Mister Marston. You're quite the quick learner."

For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, he rolled his eyes and reminded her, "That's because I've done all this shit growing up as a kid. Well, I'm a man now and I'm pretty sure I can do this quite well."

She lifted up a finger, interjecting his rant. "Yes, but here's the thing: you still are that same angry little boy. This is what we're trying to fix, Jack. So we're gonna keep making you work until you understand the difference between the boy you currently are and the man you could potentially become."

He waved a hand aside, dismissing her theory. "Psssh! That's some ridiculous logic if I've ever heard it. Where do you come up with this shit, anyway?"

"I read, Mister Marston, and I'm educated, which is more than can be said of you."

Jack blinked; for the first time today, he was surprised, baffled even. "You read?" he asked incredulously, his eyebrows raising.

"Getting to know your enemies requires you to read, idiot." She scoffed and rolled her eyes, once again bewildered by his stupidity. "You are the most unintelligent man I've ever met."

"And you're the bitchiest hoity-toity woman I've ever met." He motioned to her attire and chuckled sardonically at it. "You may dress like a man, but you sure as hell don't act like it sometimes. The way you talk sometimes makes me think you need to be wearin' a fancy dress and throwin' dinner parties with some uppity husband from New York or somethin'."

She hefted her gun in her hands, her grip on the firearm tightening with anger. "I'm NOT an aristocratic asshole, if that's what you're saying. I like bein' a hard-working cowgirl, thank you _very _much. I'm very proud of it, in fact. I'd rather die than live the spoiled life. At least _I _know the value of a dollar and of hard work, unlike you." She looked him over with a skeptical overview. "Hell, I see you sitting behind a mahogany desk writing up fancy documents and wearin' some fancy suit, living the easy life in a city of some sort. Shoot, you've probably wouldn't have to work a day in your life with that way of living."

"I'm _not _a white-collar high-class man, lady."

She locked gazes with him and nodded, her countenance hardening as she said, "That's right, Jack. You're not some sort of business man. Neither are you a rancher. And neither are you any sort of honorable working man." Her tone took on a serious, bitter tone. "You're scum, Jack. You hear me? An absolute pile of shit to my eyes, as well as everyone else's eyes 'round here on this ranch. You're a no-good, lying, son of a bitch, and I'll be reminding you of that fact every second of every day here on this ranch."

"You're right, lady. I _am _a piece of shit, an outlaw, a no-good piece of trash. _You're right!" _He advanced upon her, stepping so close to her that their chests and faces almost touched as he pointed down at her face with a steely, bitter finger, and hissed, "But I'll be reminding you of the reason why there are men like me in this world every second of every day here on this ranch. It's people like you, lawmen, law-women, government agents, the whole lot of you are so caught up in yourselves. You all think you're better than the people, that since you've got the badge and the gun, you can decide whose life to take and have no justification for it other than the simple fact that you're a officer of the law. And you're sittin' on a high little cloud oblivious to what you're really doing. You people don't get off your high horse enough and come down to earth like us regular folks. It doesn't matter if I've killed people, it's whether or not I choose to live with it or not, whether or not it comes back to bite me in the ass. And it _has_, thanks to you _lawmen_. You all have everything, absolutely EVERYTHING in documents, in folders, like you have all of us alphabetized and sorted and thinkin' you've got control over us. But you don't! And _that's _why _I'm _here on this earth, lady, to keep the law guessin' and keepin' them in check."

Her eyes widened in rage, and before he had time to react, she struck him across his left cheek with the butt of her repeater. It wasn't enough to knock him off his feet, but just enough to make him stumble backwards and clutch at his face in excruciation.

"And THAT is why I'm on this earth, _boy_, to keep YOU guessing and keep YOU in check."

A tendril of blood trickled down the side of his face from a small gash above his right eyebrow. Jack didn't feel this as he stared at her in a mixture of fascination, rage, and reverence.

"And just for that little shit-speech, you won't be getting those handcuffs off any time soon, nor any supper tonight. And you can say goodbye to your weapons and hat, for that matter, at least until the time as such when you _earn _them back. And I'm waking you up an hour earlier tomorrow morning. Consider this a fair amount of warning." She walked up to him, her hips swaying in a saucy manner. She looked him dead in the eye as she swung her repeater around her shoulder. "I know you don't like me, Jack, and I know you'd rather shoot me and be off on your own little merry way like the fairy you are, but while you're under my supervision, you'll be obeying MY rules. Rule number one: you are to NEVER disrespect me, or for any other person for that matter. Rule number two: if you try anything, absolutely _anything_, I have orders from Bonnie to shoot you dead on the spot. And you know I won't have a problem with that, seeing as you piss me off enough already. If I were to just shoot you like I had originally wanted, it would be said and done and we wouldn't have to go through this bullshit of your supposed recompense. But this is Bonnie's doing, and both you and Bonnie know that you need this. So you will respect her wish of your redemption throughout your stay here at her ranch, and you will work hard, no matter what. Do you understand me?"

He nodded curtly, not wanting to grace her demands with a response due to his anger and humility. Wiping off the trickle of blood with a less-dirty patch of his white shirt, he checked for any serious wounds. Though he'd only received a scratch from the butt of her repeater, it wasn't something to be bothered over. However, the swarming, throbbing headache that engulfed his head had begun to worsen his mood.

She pointed down to the useless, broken fence posts and commanded, "Now get these over to the campfire by the ranch hands' houses; they'll use 'em for firewood tonight. And be quick about it. You've still got a lot to get done today, including getting this fence fixed, and heaven help ya if it's not all done by sundown, Jack. If _that _happens, you'll answer to Bonnie, and I reckon she won't take to your inefficiency very well."

Scowling, his head nearly exploding with anger and pain, Jack bent down and began picking up the fence posts, carrying them four at a time so he only had to take two trips, with having only to carry three on the second.

_My God, this bitch is gonna drive me insane before this day is over_, he thought with a growl as he followed her to the ranch house for dinner.

* * *

By the time Jack had finished his evening chores-the same chores from the morning-and had finished the fence, it was almost completely dark. His body was completely enervated and slick with sweat. Every couple minutes, beads of the salty liquid would trickle down his brow and into his eyes, making them sting and burn until he wiped his face with his already-drenched neckerchief. He guessed he'd drank a gallon of water that day; he couldn't recall how many times he had to refill his canteen and/or drink from the well, as well as wash his face and neck off. Even so, he still felt dehydrated and weak. His limbs quaked with exhaustion; his stomach roared with hunger. These made it hard to concentrate on his work as he drove down new fence posts in the holes where the previous ones had stood. Using the head of his shovel, he pounded down the posts after he shoved them down as far as they would go by hand, before scooping dirt and sand from a nearby pile and placing it around the base of the posts. He stomped down on the dirt and sand, helping to secure the posts it encircled. At last, when that was finished, he set to work nailing new boards to the posts with the help of his overseer.

As he nailed in the last board, he stood back with a relieved sigh, grateful to be finally done. He looked over his handiwork, feeling pride blossom slowly in his breast. _My God, it's been forever since I've last put up fence_, he reflected, _but I guess I'm not too rusty at it after all. _He rested his hands on his hips, giving the fence a one-over before he looked over at his supervisor. He motioned to it with a nod, flashing his eyebrows haughtily as he asked, "Well? You gonna bitch about anything, or is this good enough for you, _Your Highness?"_

She shot him a fierce glare before looking over his work with a critical eye, her lips pursed in reflection and eyebrows narrowed slightly. She licked her lips and nodded, satisfied. "Not too bad, _princess_. Not too bad at all." She turned to leave.

He caught her shoulder with excessive strength, his anger flaring for what felt like the thousandth time that day. He gave her a sinister scowl as he growled, "What did I tell you before, lady? STOP CALLING ME "PRINCESS", DAMN IT!"

With her free hand, she seized his wrist with a vice-like grip and threw his hand aside all in one swift motion. She gave his chest an intimidating push with both hands, making him take a step back as she thundered, "And what did _I _tell _YOU _before, Marston?! As far as I'm concerned, I can call you whatever the fuck I want! And I TOLD you once already today: you WILL respect me. Otherwise, you'll pay for it in blood."

He threw back his head and gave a sarcastic guffaw. "HA! What are you gonna do, threaten me? Shoot me? C'mon, lady. Need I remind you that threatening to put a bullet in my head isn't gonna work?"

Before he could blink, her semi-automatic pistol was inches from his temple. Her eyes darkened into slits of homicidal rage as she cocked the gun swiftly. "Let's test that theory. Last time I had my gun in your face, you nearly shit bricks."

He stood there casually, looking back at her with as much venomous intent. "And last time you did, you didn't have the stomach to. You'd best be respectin' Bonnie's wishes, now."

Her hand shook with outrage as she pressed the barrel to his forehead. "God damn you, Jack Marston!"

He pressed back, letting the barrel dig into his skin. His eyebrows narrowed, and he dared, "Go on, lady, do it! Just shoot me and get it over with. I've had enough of this bullshit."

She chuckled darkly. "Oh, you have _no _idea how bad I want to pull this trigger, Marston."

"THEN _DO IT!"_

For the longest minute and a half, they stood there frozen in time and never taking their eyes off each other. The stare-down lasted what seemed like an eternity before, at last, the woman sighed and slowly lowered her pistol and backed away a few steps.

Jack straightened up from his stance: he had leaned forward into the barrel, ready to go. So when his death wish wasn't granted, he too sighed with disappointment. He kept his eyes to the ground in front of his boots and put his hands on his hips, wishing nothing more than to be rid of this hell on earth.

With a grumble, the woman holstered her gun and looked out past the ranch, out at the setting sun over Hennigan's Stead. She stood there, held in place by the beauty of the water-color painted sky. Already, she could see the never-ending blanket of stars above her, and the silhouette of the moon. At long last, she looked at Jack and spoke.

"Look," she began with a sigh, "since we can't get what we want, we're gonna have to come to an agreement. If we're gonna make this work, we're gonna have to work together here, which is something that neither one of us want to do. It's something we're gonna have to work on, Jack. I know you don't want to be hearin' this, much less be here, but you have to be. You have to go through this; you and I both know you need it." She shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest, frustrated and tired of the long day's tribulations. "But by Christ, it's only been one goddamn day and you're already a stick in the mud."

Jack shot her an incredulous look, his jaw dropping. He gestured to himself wildly as he shouted, "ME?!" He nodded to her and added, _"You're _the one constantly riding my ass, pushin' me to go faster, work harder, yadda yadda yadda!"

"Well, _some_one needs to be telling you that. _Some_one's gotta keep you in your place."

"That's such bullshit, lady. You're talkin' nothing but shit."

"Well, if you keep pitchin' it to me, I'll keep scoopin' it right back. All you do is bitch and moan, bitch and moan."

"And all _you _do is piss me off."

She gave a sudden snort, humored by his ironic response. She inclined her head to him and said, "Touché, Marston. Touché."

He lifted his chin, proud that he'd won the banter.

A breeze danced across the corral, taunting them with a brief cool-down and playing with their hair with invisible fingers. Quite unexpectedly, the woman's eyes widened and she exclaimed, "My God, Marston, you stink worse than a skunk's ass! You need a bath!"

Jack merely shrugged; a hint of an amused smirk threatened to break his cold-hearted visage. Before he could give her a saucy retort, a sudden yawn escaped his mouth. He rubbed at his eyes with dirty, callused hands.

Seeing this, the woman punched him lightly on the shoulder and said, "C'mon, princess. It's past your bedtime."

"Fuck you, lady!" he managed to shout through another yawn.

She merely laughed at his tired outburst as she waved him along. "C'mon, I'll show you back to your cell." She started forward, skirting around the gate as the herd of cattle suddenly appeared, spilling into the corral. She and Jack had to climb over the fence and wait by the gate as several ranch hands on horseback drove the herd back into their pen for the night. Once the herd was safely in and the cowboys had ridden out, the woman closed the gate and headed for the sheriff's office.

"There's a wash basin and fresh clothes set up for you back in your cell," she explained over her shoulder. "I had a ranch hand ready that for you. I reckoned you'd stink by the end of the day and need a good bath, and _my God_, was I right!"

"Well, if you wouldn't have pushed me so goddamn hard today, I wouldn't have sweated so much."

She scoffed. "That's the idea, boy."

He grumbled an incoherent curse as he fell into step beside her.

Together, they made their way to the sheriff's office. Jack struggled to keep up with her energetic stride, and although he couldn't help but admire the view, he wasn't able to keep astride with her. He quickly fell behind, stumbling and shuffling along. His legs felt like spaghetti, cumbersome and unwilling to cooperate. His body trembled with exhaustion; never before had he ever recalled being worked this hard. Sweat stains enveloped his once white shirt; his neckerchief and hair were plastered to his neck and forehead. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and he slouched as he shuffled along, worn out and grumpy like an old man.

"You doin' all right back there, princess?" the woman shouted back over her shoulder. She glanced back at him with a coy smile and stopped, waiting for him to catch up. She was at least ten strides in front of him.

"Shut up, I'm comin'," he griped, giving her an annoyed glance as he walked up of her.

With a chuckle, she walked on beside him. She looked him over and asked, "You gonna be all right? You're looking a little ragged 'round the edges."

"I'll be fine." He glanced over at her, an eyebrow raised. "Why the hell do you care, anyway?"

"I don't want my slave dying on me after the first day."

He gave an unimpressed harrumph as they reached the sheriff's office. With a sigh, he led the way into the building. He walked into his cell without a fuss, where he found a bowl of steaming soup, a neatly-folded pile of ranch hand clothing, and a medium-sized basin full with water. Smiling at the sight of these comforts, Jack sat down and immediately dug into his supper with gusto, digging into it like an emaciated coyote finding the remains of a cow carcass.

The woman stood leaning against the door frame of his cell, her arms folded across her chest and a disgusted frown spreading across her beautiful face.

In between spoonfuls, he looked up at her and asked, "What?"

She shook her head, embarrassed for him of his lack of etiquette. "You sure are an outlaw. You're just as uncivilized and unmannerly as one, that's for sure."

He shrugged, not caring at all as he continued eating.

She nodded down to the basin and said, "You'd best get cleaned up tonight after you finish eating. You need it."

He paused in his frenzied feasting to glare up at her. "I know that, damn it. Why don't you just leave me be already?"

She gave him a cross look and pushed herself off the door frame. "Be ready by five tomorrow morning, scumbag. There's a lot more work that needs to be done." She closed his cell door, locked it with a skeleton key that she'd fished out of her vest pocket, before turning on her heel and leaving, her duster flapping angrily behind her. Her boots thumped and spurs clinked a rhythm as she walked toward the door.

Finishing his soup, Jack set the bowl down on the floor and called out, "Hey, lady! Wait a second."

She paused in the doorway, looking back at him over her shoulder. Her long dark hair whipped about, making a half-circle in its movement before draping over her right shoulder.

Jack stared momentarily at this, captivated, before saying, "You haven't told me what your name is." He swallowed nervously, his heart tap-dancing against his chest. He didn't understand why that was.

Her brown eyes narrowed to small slits as she replied curtly, "You haven't earned that knowledge yet, _princess_."

And with that, she walked out, closing the door behind her rather roughly.


	2. Part 2: Shrew

**Part 2:**

**Shrew**

The first week drug by painfully slow in Jack's mind; the days were excruciatingly long, at least fourteen hours long each day, and each night he was sore, drenched in sweat, and exhausted. He was in a constant wearisome, angry mood, his patience at its thinnest and his tolerance of his overseer even less. She was a constant headache, a ceaseless, irritable shadow that never failed to remind him of his worthlessness, his small chances of redemption, and his apparent lack of work ethic and morals. And he took it all, but not without a considerable amount of strife. With every harsh remark, he'd reply in kind. The banter and name-calling between master and slave never ended, only becoming worse as the week progressed. He learned that she hated being called anything related to city-folk and their supposed easy lifestyle, especially if he associated her to any sort of high-class housewife. His triumph was always short-lived when she would shoot back a clever retort to this, usually involving some sort of emasculating comment about his supposed lack of masculinity or his pitiful point in life. It was a game for them, and day by day, they had grown to thrive off of it. Their skills in insulting each other improved, and they kept score, tallying up their points at the end of the day and rubbing it in the loser's face before parting ways to sleep off their anger, only to start the new day refreshed and full of new insults to try.

The woman kept him doing the same chores the first week, every once in a while throwing in an occasional repair of a building or fence. However, she never once let him mount up on his Dark Horse and help out with driving the cattle to pasture, nor did she let him join Bonnie or a few ranch hands in trips to Armadillo for supplies, or even have him exercise the corral full of horses. She made it clear she didn't trust him, and she kept a close hand to her firearms, in case he would try anything. He never did, though he did enjoy tossing in an occasional threat to keep her on her feet. She never mentioned giving back his accoutrements or taking off his handcuffs, even when they had begun to dig into his wrists. "Just put some rags around the edges, princess," she commented sarcastically when he brought it up. "You're not gettin' them off any time soon; you haven't earned the right to have them taken off. So suck it up." At this, he merely scoffed, but when he did what she suggested, he realized, much to his chagrin, that it worked and kept his handcuffs from cutting into his flesh. He missed the freedom of doing whatever he damn well pleased, missed the weight of his pistol on his hip and the joy he felt riding the Dark Horse around wherever he desire. But he sadly had left that life, and with a heavy heart, he had begun to slowly but surely accept that fact.

Twice that week, despite his exhaustion at the end of the day, she made him do a night watch with her. She allowed him to have his lasso back for those two nights alone. Even when she gave it to him, she hesitated, still unsure if her decision was wise. Still, it was necessary for their jobs. They had caught a horse thief in the act one night; the woman shot him in the leg, making him fall off the horse and hobble when he tried to run away, and Jack lassoed and hogtied him. Jack was constantly impressed by her skills; she was a good shot, hardly ever missing her aim, and her quick draw was a thing he always found fascinating to watch. _My God, where did she learn how to be so good?_ he would catch himself thinking with a pang of jealousy. He would often wonder who would win in a duel, and at times, at his angriest state, he wished to find out; however, he knew she'd never allow such a thing to happen, even if she did want to shoot him down and be done with it. On the second night of their watch, the woman heard the distressed cries of chickens and knew that coyotes had gotten into the coop again. She quickly dispatched the mated pair, shooting them down with a bullet each from her semi-automatic pistol. She had Jack dispose of the bodies on the edge of the MacFarlane property, making sure she followed with gun at the ready in case he tried to run away in the process. It was an unnecessary precaution on her part, but she still felt the need to keep her guard up. Nevertheless, she and Jack proved to be quite the efficient pair when it came to defending the ranch.

Bonnie rarely spoke to him, much less looked at him whenever their paths crossed. She was busy running the ranch as usual, but he knew otherwise. He wasn't stupid. Deep down, he knew she'd been avoiding him, whether by anger, disgust, guilt, or a combination of the three, he did not know. Either way, she was disappointed in him, and she looked at him like the outlaw pig he had become. Dehumanizing the son of her deceased friend most likely helped in her cold-shouldering, which hurt him to the core, but he refused to show it. It was true: her disappointment and anger grew heavy on his heart, and he often felt guilty whenever his thoughts turned to her. He had come to terms with what he had become; he realized her coldness towards him was deserved, and that made him feel even less of a man and more of a childish fool.

He felt even more of a fool on the seventh day of his recompense. He remarked, rather oddly, that it was a Saturday evening, when it all happened. He and a middle-aged black ranch hand named Eli Jones, were mucking out the stalls in the barn. It was his last chore of the day, and Jack took to scooping the soiled straw with eagerness, hardly waiting to be taking a bath and enjoying supper alone in his cell. Nothing was more enjoyable and stress-free than the end of his work days. The simple comforts he once deemed miniscule were now his rewards after a long day of labor and irritation. The solace he found in bathing, eating, and sleeping was his nightly release, and he looked forward to it all day every day until he was at last taking in the comforts of solitude in his confinement.

It was on this day, the day of all days, that the woman deemed him trustworthy enough to work alongside a ranch hand and not under her watch. Jack was extremely grateful for her absence and constant shrewd comments, just as much as she was to his absence. To finally be in the presence of someone besides her for the first time in six days was a comfort in itself. The two men chatted occasionally, confiding in each others company. Slowly, Jack felt his masculinity return; to communicate with another person of the same sex was like therapy to him. For the first time that week, he felt himself relax and smile with true happiness.

He had just finished with his second-to-last stall when he caught himself doing a foolish thing. He was resting against the pitchfork, with the head embedded in the ground by his feet, taking a quick break between stalls, when out of the corner of his eye, his attention was caught by the recognizable red cherry of a smoke in the fading light of the day. Turning his head, he looked in the direction of where the light resided.

It was then that he spotted her, his feisty overseer, in a way he'd never seen her before. She sat in a rocking chair on the porch of Bonnie's ranch house, her boots propped up in a carefree manner on the railing. Her long dark hair flowed freely, naturally, beautifully, down her shoulders and chest like a black waterfall. She had done away with her duster: it was draped over the railing, looking as if she'd taken it off and tossed it there haphazardly. To see her without her duster on was surprising, but what surprised Jack the most was what she held in her hands. In her left, she held a thick, smoking cigar; in her right, a red leather-bound book. Jack squinted in the growing darkness to discern the title, which he could make out was "The Taming of the Shrew" by William Shakespeare. His eyes widened. _She reads Shakespeare?_ he thought incredulously. _Christ alive, she really _must _be smart._

Dumbfounded, Jack stared on as she paused in her reading to lift the cigar to her lips. Casually, coolly, she wrapped her full lips around the butt of the cigar, pursing them slightly as she closed her eyes and took four quick puffs, her cheeks sucking into her face with each puff as she did so. She then took a long, slow, final puff, filling her mouth with the spicy, savory flavor of the cigar and its smoke, before releasing it in a magnificent white cloud that coiled upwards. The smoke framed her face majestically before billowing up and around her Stetson and dissipating all around her. When the smoke had drifted away from her eyes, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, pausing to look out at the plains of Hennigan's Stead with a reflective countenance, as if she were thinking over what she'd read and ruminating it in her mind's eye.

It was the most erotic thing Jack had seen in his whole life. He grew hard for her as he stared mystified by the very woman he'd come to hate in the past six days. _God…DAMN!_ he thought, his jaw dropping. No other declaration could be distinguished in his mind; the layers of confounded thoughts and emotions he felt siege his brain were too powerful and complicated to be put to mere words.

"Ya best be closin' ya mouth, Mistuh Mawsten, before ya get ta catchin' flies."

Startled and deeply embarrassed, Jack snapped out of his erotic reverie, adjusting his pants and looking quickly away from the woman. Eagerly, he began mucking out his last stall.

Eli chuckled his scratchy chuckle. His laugh was known all around Hennigan's Stead, as was his sweet, hard-working disposition. He was amused greatly at the boy's fain attempts to mask his interest in his supervisor. He rested his dark, broad hands on the end of his pitchfork and leaned against it. He watched Jack intently as the young man before him worked hastily, his face a deep shade of pink and his brows furrowed in confusion. With a knowing smirk, Eli said in his gratey voice, "She's a beauty, ain't she?"

Jack looked up at him, feigning naivety. "Who?"

The Negro motioned over to the woman with a suggestive nod, a grin forming on his large lips and brilliant array of teeth. He grasped at one of his suspenders and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Ya ain't tha first boy ta git caught a-ganderin' at her. She's a perdy lil' thang, ain't she?"

Jack frowned and continued working at a faster pace, eager to be done with the day and the growing awkward conversation. He liked it better when they were talking about more manlier conversations, and he would've given almost anything to be away from the older man right then. "I don't know what you're talking about, mister," he lied.

"Oh, come off it, boy. You was starin' at her like a lunatic at tha moon. I done saw ya doin' it, mistuh."

"That's horse shit, Eli," he retorted, stabbing at the manure-ridden straw with excessive strength before tossing it angrily into the almost-full wheel barrow a few feet away. "I wasn't staring. I was just…resting a bit."

Eli chortled. "Yessuh, you was restin', alright. Restin' ya eyes on that perdy lil' wildflower."

"Shut up, old man!"

His companion merely laughed before continuing working on his side of the barn. For a short while, the men worked in silence; however, Jack knew the gossiping black man would surely break it.

Leaning against his pitchfork again, Eli looked over at the woman, who had stopped reading for the night due to the complete lack of light and was smoking her cigar in reflective peace. He smiled as he ran his eyes over the beautiful gal before turning his gaze to Jack. "She's perdier than a violent snowdrop a-bloomin' in tha snow," he remarked, watching the boy intently for a reaction.

Much to his chagrin, Jack admitted, "Yeah, I suppose she is pretty."

"Perdier than a Texas sunset, as fierce 'n' wild as a mustang filly. She sho got some spunk in 'er, that woman."

He snorted and nodded. "Yeah, she sure does, Eli. Hell, I've got the bruises to prove it. She sure as shit likes to punch me or hit me with her repeater whenever she thinks I'm not doin' something right or fast enough…or whenever I piss her off, which is quite often. I get a fresh set of bruises every damn day, thanks to her."

Seemingly oblivious to Jack's commentary, Eli gushed on, his chin lifting and his eyes gleaming with reverence for the woman he spoke of. "She's perdier than Heaven itself, I reckon. Lawd, I bet she done received mo marriage proposals than tha sun sets and tha moon rises combined."

Despite himself, Jack couldn't help but perk up in interest as he worked. "That many, huh? Why is she not married then?"

"'Cause there ain't no man alive that can tame that lil' filly. She runs wild, mistuh. No man can touch 'er. She got mo spirit than tha Ol' West isself." He paused, giving him a scrutinizing look-over. "Why? Ya wantin' ta try 'n' tame her, boy?"

He paused in his labor to straighten up from his bent stance and stare at him, stunned. "What? Why are you talkin' such bullshit, Eli? Where do you get these ideas?"

The older man shrugged and laughed, his shoulders bouncing at the convulsions. He shook his head as he replied, "I ain't tawkin' no bullshit, Mawsten. I's just makin' an observashun." He finished with the stall before resting his pitchfork against the stall door. He walked over to Jack, patted his shoulder good-naturedly, and said, "Well, I wish ya tha best a luck with that filly, boy."

With a growl, Jack jabbed the pitchfork down into the ground and declared angrily, "I am NOT trying to…"tame" her! Fuck, I don't even like that brute of a woman! She's crueler than a rattlesnake, and her bite's just as venomous. She's bitchier than a three-legged dog chasing after a jackrabbit. Hell, she's manlier than an old, nasty cowboy out on the trail." He shook his head and scoffed to himself, "_'Tame _her'…By Christ…"

For the first time, Eli grew angry at him as he stomped back to him and pointed a thick finger down at his chest. "Don't ya be disrespectin' her! She may cuss like a filthy cowboy 'n' have tha mannuhs of one, but she's one hell of a hawd worker! With her 'n' Bonnie runnin' the ranch, since Boss Man Drew can't move 'round as much nowadays, it's a -blossomin' quite well. She's a _damn _fine woman, 'n' no man alive is worth how much she means ta this here ranch! Bonnie would be in debt right now if it weren't fer her givin' her the five-thousand dolluhs she done got in bounty reward."

Jack's eyes widened. "She gave Bonnie _how much?"_

"Five-thousand dolluhs, Mistuh Mawsten."

"Jesus…" Yet again, he was stunned by her. She was so confusing, cruel one moment and kind the next. He grew defensive, however, when he continued, "But if you're sayin' all these romances 'bout her beauty and such, then why don't _you _try to "tame" her?"

Eli guffawed and waved a hand, once again returning to his jolly self. "I'm too old 'n' she's much fer me. She done turned away all offers, 'n' I doubt she'll be a-changin' her mind any time soon." His facial expression changed slightly as he looked Jack over observantly, and he cocked his head slightly to the side. "Any man here on this ranch don't stand a chance. Any man…but you, Mistuh Mawsten. 'Cause when I see ya tawkin' ta her, 'n' she's tawkin' ta you, I think ya got a fightin' chance, boy."

Chuckling at his pun, he turned and headed out the double barn doors, heading toward the glow of the bonfire behind the general store, where his fellow ranch hands were mingling and eating supper, enjoying each others company as they sat conversing and enjoying the somber song of a man playing his fiddle.

"I ain't lookin' for romance, mister!" Jack asserted, once again stabbing his pitchfork into the ground to emphasize his point. "And I am _especially _not lookin' for it in that crazy woman! And if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that whenever I get close to someone, they…leave."

The Negro smiled back at him over his shoulder. Without stopping, he replied, "That might be true, Jack, but ev'rybody gots ta have somebody. Ev'rybody looks fer romance, 'n' if there's someone who is a-lookin' 'n' needin' it, it's you, boy. Ya need it mo than all us men here on tha ranch." He tipped his hat to Jack and bade him good night before walking on toward the bonfire.

Scowling and wondering at the man's words, Jack watched him leave. _What the hell does he take me for? _he pondered, glaring at Eli's back. He shook his head and scoffed as he went back to work. _That old fool. What the hell does he know?_

And yet, as he threw down a new bale of straw bedding in the stall, he couldn't help but wonder at the possibility. His supervisor was one hell of a woman, nothing like he'd ever known or experienced, but the very thought of even attempting to get closer to her made him sick to his stomach. _She's such a bitch; she's not someone I'd want to be with. Never in a million years would I ever consider it. _For a long while, he worked in silence, trying hard to concentrate on finishing up for the night, but the image of her smoking that cigar and looking damn good at it haunted him, making his thoughts spark up fantasies he thought he'd never conjure up. _She IS beautiful_, he admitted to himself, _and she can make reading and smoking look _damn _good…but my God, she's such a bitch. _With a tired sigh, he finished with the stall and rested the pitchfork beside Eli's against the wall. He ran a hand down his face, utterly confused and angry at his emotions.

Exhausted, he left the barn and made his way up to the ranch house toward his overseer. He kept his gaze down the ground as he drew closer, not knowing why he grew embarrassed as soon as he glanced up at her when he started forward. He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and cleared his throat, hoping to get her attention.

She flicked the long stem of ash from the end of her cigar and looked at him, waiting for his report.

"The stalls are clean," he reported dryly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

She took a long drag before releasing the smoke in a billowing haze around her face. "Good."

An awkward pause followed.

"You all right, Marston? You look like you're about to keel over on the spot."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just…tired."

"As well you should be," she shot back, a hint of a smile in her voice as she put her book down on the porch. She stood up, putting her cigar in her mouth, and grabbed her duster off the railing. Swinging it around, she put it on, shrugging it onto her shoulders before plucking her cigar from her lips. Bending down, she picked her book up only to place it gently on the seat of the rocking chair. She glanced down at her prized possession with fondness, taking a reflective puff as she did so.

Jack followed her gaze and admired the beautiful red leather cover. The title was etched into it in gold, flowing lettering. The tip of a hawk feather poked out from the middle of the pages; he grinned at the book mark, thinking it clever and fitting.

"You ever read Shakespeare, Marston?"

He blinked slowly, his mind numb from the long day. He shook his head. "No. I never thought I'd see _you _reading his work, though." He grinned sardonically. "I always thought you'd be too busy scheduling dinner parties and answering calling cards in your uppity mansion."

"Shut your yippus, princess," she retorted, not amused by his remark. She took a puff and, walking down the steps, released the smoke deliberately in his face, making him blink and sputter and step back.

"Damn it, woman," he griped, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell was that for?"

"I enjoy putting you in your place, Jack."

"By Christ, do I know it!"

She chuckled softly. "I wouldn't take you for a reading type. I figured you'd be too stupid to make out words, much less appreciate great literary works such as Shakespeare's plays and sonnets."

"I can read, you prissy little shit. I'm not as stupid as you take me for. Hell, at one point, I was even aspiring to become a writer some day."

She guffawed, throwing her head back slightly. "And what would you write about? Your pitiful career as an outlaw? I can only imagine how riddled your story would be of misspellings and incorrect grammar, among other things. That is something I'd _love _to see one day." She shook her head and giggled, taking another drag and closing her eyes as she savored her cigar.

Jack grew silent, too tired and baffled to come up with a viable counterattack.

The woman lifted her chin proudly as she released the smoke. She opened her eyes and looked at him with raised eyebrows, shocked that he didn't say anything in kind to her vicious words. "What, no shitty comeback, Marston? I guess that means I win this time."

He shrugged. "I honestly don't give a damn right now. I'm too tired."

"You'd better come back tomorrow with some new material, Jack. I must say I'm rather disappointed."

He scoffed and, for the first time, gave her a soft smile. "Oh, I'll get you back for that, don't you worry."

"Good. For a second, I thought I had you beat down. You'd better not just lay down and give up on me. God forbid you _ever _give in to a strong-willed woman."

"Pssh. Don't get your hopes up _too _high, lady. I'm not done fightin' just yet."

"Good!" With one last toke, she dropped her cigar at her boots and ground it out. "Let's get you to your quarters, princess. You definitely need your beauty sleep."

"Sure thing, Mister Hard-ass."

Together, they made their way to the sheriff's office. As was routine for them, Jack walked into his cell without a fuss, and she closed and locked the door behind him. As was his custom, he sat down on his bed and ate his soup with gusto. As always, she briefly watched him eat with disgust before shaking her head and walking out the building.

Just as she reached the doorway, he asked her in-between spoonfuls, "So are you ever gonna tell me your name, lady? It'll give me some new material to make fun of you."

With a clever smile, she looked back at him and quoted, "'Why sir, I trust I may have leave to speak. And speak I will. I am no child, no babe. Your betters have endured me say my mind, And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, Or else my heart, concealing it, will break. And, rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.'" With that, she disappeared into the night, leaving him to ponder and unravel her answer.


	3. Part 3: Horseplay

**Sorry for the late update, everyone! College and work kind of bucked me off my saddle this past week and a half, and it's been a helluva ride to get back on. Time management and priorities have always been kickers for me, but at last the next installment of Jack's "slave work" is up! As always, a HUGE thank you to all my followers and reviewers! I love you guys!**

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**Chapter Track: Horseplay - Bill Elm and Woody Jackson, Red Dead Redemption soundtrack  
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** watch?v=lJWegZErn7I**

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**Part 3:**

**Horseplay**

"Hey, princess…Priiiiiiincess…Princess, wake up!"

Still in the realm of his dreams, Jack lay on his side in bed unmoving, the sheets pulled up to his face. His eyes fluttered open only to close and seduce him back into his reverie.

"PRINCESS!"

He jerked awake, jumping violently in bed. His eyes snapped open, and he rolled over quickly with a groan of protest and glared up at his overseer with a tired, irritated countenance.

"Ah! I see you've finally decided to listen to me and wake up," she chuckled, happy to see him miserable and half-asleep. She stood at his bedside, her hands on her hips, her duster pulled back behind her fists and revealing her pistol and sheathed hunting knife. She kicked the left of his bed, jostling him further awake. "Get up, you lazy prick. We've got work to do."

"'We'?" Jack questioned, his voice hoarse from misuse. Clearing his throat, he sat up in bed and rubbed a hand over his face and through his disheveled hair. "I never knew _you _did any work around here. All you do is stand around and nag, nag, nag."

"And all you do is whine, whine, whine," she retorted with a giggle. She shook her head, her long hair swaying from side to side at the movement. "You're not really in the saddle yet, huh, Marston? I was expecting a better start from you today after those miserable come-backs from last night. Are you losin' your touch, boy?"

He glowered up at her, resting his chin in his hand. "No, I'm just losin' sleep is all. You and Bonnie got me so damn overworked, I feel like an over-used hooker at a saloon."

"Well, you sure stink like one," she said with a grimace.

"At least _I _don't look like one," Jack shot back, motioning to her with a curt nod as he swung his legs around the edge of the bed and faced her.

She kicked his left shin with her boot, making him cry out in agony and slouch forward. "To hell with you, Marston! I refuse to be like those pieces of trash, those nasty sluts, who sell their bodies for little more than paper! You, on the other hand, I can see you selling your body for even less, hell, even for free!"

Clutching at his leg, he hissed back through his pain, "If I were free, I'd come to women like you who don't have a chance at getting any satisfied customers!"

She raised her eyebrows, shocked by his snaky come-backs. He was on the ball today, that was for sure. "That's a goddamn lie if ever I heard of one! I've turned down more men than the amount of times you've probably wet yourself over whores, you little prick-headed pervert! If anything, I'd say I'm the one who's getting everyone paying big money to even settle for my name, much less a small bit of conversation."

Jack scoffed and sat back up. "Well, ain't you just the most uppity, self-centered whore. You've got more nerve and more sass than a rooster in his prime, and you're just as dumb as one."

"I may be all high and mighty, but I sure as hell am not a cocky, salacious son of a bitch like you. You never know when to shut your trashy mouth."

"Hey!" came a commanding feminine voice from the direction of the doorway, "if you two are done talking _pleasantries_, I'd like to see you both outside for a minute."

Jack and his arrogant overseer looked over to see Bonnie standing in the doorway of the sheriff's office, her arms folded across her chest and an annoyed frown on her thin lips. "Now come on and finish this pointless banter and come out here. Marston, you shut your trap and get to movin'."

"Alrighty, Miss MarFarlane," the woman responded with a respective tip of her hat. She looked back down at her slave, her sick-headed, feeble-minded companion, and said, "_That _is what's known as showing respect. I suspected that you would eventually pick up on that, but I suppose you're a tenacious bastard." She kicked him in the other shin, making his yelp, before turning and walking out of the cell.

He made her stop in mid-stride when he retorted through his pain, "Lady, you gotta give respect to get it, and so far, you haven't earned my respect. Not in the slightest bit."

She half-turned back and glared at him over her shoulder, her hair and duster whipping about angrily. "And you won't be receiving any respect from me any time soon, or from Bonnie."

He chortled darkly and rubbed his shins with his palms. "What else is new? You two hate me more than a horse hates rattlers. My God, I swear you women are set to conspire against me. You've been in league with her against me ever since I got my face on a wanted poster."

"It's for a damn good reason, Jack."

"In you women's eyes, sure, but not in my man's eyes."

She cocked her head to the side slightly, glaring down at him from below the brim of her hat. "You're not even _close _to bein' a man, Marston, and until you get anywhere nearer to the day of your redemption, your recompense, you'll be revered as nothing more than an angry, vengeful boy who thinks his stupid actions and decisions are justified just because his poor old Papa got shot down by men who were doing their jobs."

"'_DOING THEIR JOBS?!'" _he roared as he stood and strode up to her. He shoved his face into hers and thundered, "Those bastards came onto OUR land and killed my father in COLD FUCKING BLOOD, all because they believed he wasn't a changed man and didn't do his job like they wanted! They sent him out all across this godforsaken land to do their dirty work, and then they shot him down like a DOG! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME, LADY?! A _DOG! _So _**DO NOT **_tell me them lawmen were simply doing their jobs, when all we were doing was moving on and living our lives as honest ranchers! You need to get your fucking facts straight, you stupid fucking woman, before your stupidity gets you killed! Obviously, you haven't done your homework and read my file close enough, even if it _is _tainted with lies by the badge-wearin' sons-a-bitches themselves!"

She swung her right fist powerfully at his face, intending to dislocate his jaw, but he caught it and held it with an inescapable grip. His fingers tightened painfully, and though she didn't show her discomfort, she certainly let her fury show plain on her face. She didn't respond to his speech at first, as she was too angry to do so as she glared into his eyes with a fiery passion. He could tell she wanted right then and there to kill him, or at least beat him to a bloody pulp: he could feel her arm shake with a frenzied urge to strike him, if not draw her pistol and shoot him right between the eyes without hesitation. But something held her back, not just her physical restraint by Jack. No, there was something in her eyes that he recognized, even if it was a tiny dot, a one-second flash of insight. Was it envy, empathy, or sadness? Maybe even knowing, like she too had experienced betrayal? Hid behind his mask of anger, he processed this with slight confusion.

_Why would she empathize with me?_

He was surprised when she at last spoke up.

"'Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O, vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like the very drab, A scullion!'"

Utterly confused, he let her fist go and stared at her, his anger melting from his face. "What in Sam hell are you talking about?"

She dropped her fist to her side and smirked knowingly, like she'd gotten the jest of an inside joke when he didn't. "I'm simply stating the words that your sly, pitiful mouth should be saying."

He blinked, not comprehending.

"You remind me of him so much."

"Who?"

"Hamlet. You're just as whiny, vengeful, and pathetic as him, though I doubt you're as cunning as he was in his act of revenge."

He shook his head. "You're talkin' in riddles, lady."

A victorious sneer made its way to the corners of her full lips. "Oh, but you make it _so very easy _to befuddle you."

He snorted. "How touching." He rolled his eyes before locking gazes with her. The stare-down didn't last long, though.

The loud, obvious noise of a throat being cleared made the two turn their attention back to the doorway. Bonnie was still standing there, like she had never left, and she looked twice as perturbed to see that they hadn't made any progress towards the door.

"You two 'bout done? I have a job for you and time's a-wasting."

"Yes, ma'am," the woman replied, taking a step back from Jack. He motioned to him with a quick wave of her hand and explained obsequiously, "I just _had _to talk some sense into this boy first, is all."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and sighed. "Quoting Shakespeare to him will only confuse the boy, miss. Plus, I'm sure your interrogations, if that's what you would call it, wasn't helping in telling him what was what."

"Everybody needs a good scolding every once in a while, ma'am, even if it's in Shakespearean tongue." She gave her a quaint grin.

Her eyes darkened under her narrowing eyebrows as she warned, "You'll be gettin' a scolding, too, if you and Jack don't get the lead out and come out here. Not get ta movin'!"

Without another moment's hesitation, the two quarrelers joined their employer outside on the porch of the sheriff's office. They stood before her, waiting to hear their task.

"Well?" Jack grunted, his eyes half-opened from exhaustion and boredom. "What sort of slave work do you have for me today?"

She silenced him with a deadly glare before answering, "Earlier this week, Daddy spotted a small band of mustangs near Pike's Basin. I want you two to round up a couple of them and bring 'em back here to the ranch. So saddle up and get goin' before they run further out from the ranch and it will be harder to bring 'em in."

"Sure thing, Bonnie!" the woman piped up, exhilaration rising the pitch in her voice and brightening her beautiful face into an adventurous smile. She elbowed Jack harshly in the ribs and eagerly started for the barn. "C'mon, princess! Let's go get us some mustangs!"

"Hold up a moment," Bonnie interjected and stepped closer to Jack. She looked him in the eye with the most threatening gaze she could muster as she retrieved a small key from her shirt pocket. She motioned for Jack to hold out his handcuffed hands out to her, twisting his wrists around palm-up. As she unlocked the handcuffs, she warned harshly, "Now, Jack, I'm taking these off because you're gonna need your hands free if you're gonna be able to bring in a couple of those mustangs. BUT…if you try _anything_, like ride off or assault my friend here, I've given her orders to shoot you dead off your horse. I'm not joking around, Jack. You try _one little thing _and she blows your heart right out of your chest. Got it?"

The handcuffs jangled as they fell off Jack's wrists into Bonnie's awaiting hands. He rubbed at the skin where the metal had rubbed against his flesh, and he half-grinned, elated to be finally free of his shackles. At last, he felt the blood flow freely through his wrists and hands. He flexed and opened his hands and fingers several times before looking up at Bonnie.

She glared at him, expecting a respectful answer. "Well?"

He nodded curtly.

Her eyes narrowed even more as she admonished, "Jack…"

"Yes, ma'am, and thank you," he replied forcibly, nearly gagging on the words.

Her head jerked once in a satisfactory nod. "Good. Here's your lasso. Now get goin'!"

With an unwilling sigh, he received his lasso from her, staring down at the rope that rested heavily in his hands. He was not looking forward to this.

She gave him one last warning glare as she took a step closer to him. He shied back slightly, eyes widening as she locked gazes with him and growled, "If you try anything…" She left her sentence hanging for him to finish with ghastly images of his own demise in his mind's eye. After a short while of looking him over with an indecisive, worrisome glare, she turned and headed into the house, her gait quickly becoming an angry stomp and her braided blonde hair swaying and sliding across her back.

Jack watched her walk haughtily away, his heart pounding in his chest from the fear she'd instilled into it and his guilt making him sick to his stomach. He bowed his head and stared solemnly down at his scarred wrists and at the lasso he held loosely in his hands, not knowing what to say or do. She was good at keeping him miserable. He glanced up at his overseer with a sardonic frown. _I swear it must be a female thing…She's good at it, too._

"You doin' all right, you little fairy queen?" his supervisor asked, looking him up and down quizzically.

He straightened up and lifted his chin, masking his emotions with his usual scowl. "I'm fine. Why do you care?"

"I don't," she answered plainly. "I was just afraid you'd start crying on me. I've noticed that you always shrink down and put your tail between your legs like an abused dog whenever Bonnie's around."

"I do not," he barked back, snapping his head over to her and giving her a seething glare.

"Pssh! Come on, you little pansy! You're _afraid _of her, just as you are of me."

He faced her fully, squaring his shoulders, and boldly stated, "I fear no man or woman, especially the likes of you two. Hell, I don't fear a damn thing, for that matter."

"Except an honest living and a sense of maturity," she shot back cleverly with a roll of her eyes. She shoved her shoulder into his as she walked around him and headed for the barn. "Now come on, you big softy. We've got work to do, and Bonnie's given us most of the day to get it done. She figured the herd would be out quite a ways, so it'll take us a while to get to the band before we even get to lassoing a horse or two."

He fell into step beside her, scoffing. "Ha! I'd be hard-pressed to see _you _pushin' your weight around here and bustin' your ass. I don't think I've ever seen _Your Royal Highness _break a sweat, much less do any physical labor."

"Trust me, Marston, I'd run circles around you if I didn't have to baby-sit you all damn day long," she shot back. "I'd much rather be working alongside the men, showing them all up and outlasting them during chores and other things that need to be done throughout the day. And I dare say I'd _easily _show you up, seeing as you work at the speed of an old woman."

"And you bitch and bicker about as much as an old woman."

"Shut it, boy. I'll prove to you that I can outwork any man, especially the likes of you. Now if you'll just shut up and follow me, we can get right on that and find the herd faster."

He guffawed at her boast, throwing back his head. "Oh, _this _I gotta see!"

They entered the barn just then; their senses became assailed with the snorts, whinnies, and nickers of horses, the pricking of their ears and flaring of their nostrils as they took in the newcomers, the bobbing of their heads and the swishing of their tails as they stood impatiently waiting to be given attention to and/or ridden. Horse manure, hay, straw, and dirt molested Jack and the woman's nostrils, but it was a pleasant odor to their noses as they went to their mounts and greeted them.

Jack grinned as he saw the Dark Horse's piebald head poke out of his stall, his red eyes locking gazes with his rider. The gelding nickered eagerly, greeting his master and wishing to be set free from his prison box. The horse knew it was time for a ride; it had been a week and a half since last he'd been ridden, and he was eager to break the length that record.

"Hey, boy," Jack cooed as he stood before his mount's stall door. He ran a hand up the horse's white muzzle, avoiding the scratches and scars as his hand came to rest underneath his forelock. His fingers fiddled with the tangled mane, and he took a moment to untangle the ball before he retrieved the bridle from a hook on the wall beside the stall and slipped it on his horse. The Dark Horse took the bit anxiously, almost accidentally biting his fingers as he guided the bit between his front teeth. "Easy, now. Don't get too excited."

He looked over his shoulder when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He watched as the woman led her black beauty out of her stall before turning the horse around. The mare's silvery mane and tail shimmered in the morning light; her muscular body rippled and bulged with every movement as she followed her rider. The woman dropped the reins to the ground, and her mare obediently stood still. She stood beside the black beast, patting and petting her muscular frame and whispering sweet nothings to her. The mare pricked her ears in the direction of her voice, listening intently to every syllable, every word, and each rise and fall of her voice.

"There's a good girl, there, Gypsy. You're lookin' mighty fine, aren't you, my darling?" she gushed as she ran her hands over her horse's withers and back, caressing her prized mare. "You're the finest mare anyone's ever seen, makin' all the other horses jealous, isn't that right, girl?"

Gypsy turned her head back and nudged her rider's arms, nickering in a friendly way. The woman responded with more affection, running her fingers through the mare's silver mane and scratching her neck with her fingernails, before she gathered her horse's blanket and saddle in both arms. With ease, she tossed the tack up and over Gypsy's back, adjusting wherever needed and walking around her several times to make sure everything was in position before she tightened up the front cinch.

Jack was fascinated with the close bond she shared with her one-of-a-kind beauty of a horse. He led his Dark Horse out of his stall distractedly, his gaze never leaving his overseer and her mount. He looked away briefly to tie his horse to a hitching post to the side of the stall door. Curious, he walked over to Gypsy and held out his hand to the mare, inviting her to take in his scent and introduce himself to her.

The mare's ears pinned flat against her head, and a wild look raged in her eyes as she whipped her head around and lunged her open mouth at him. Jack jumped back before the horse's teeth latched onto his outstretched hand, his heart skipping a beat and becoming ice-cold with panic. Beside the horse, his supervisor gasped and grabbed the reins, readying to hold her horse back in case she felt the need to lunge forward again.

"Jack, back up! Now!" she warned as Gypsy made a second try to bite him.

He did as he was told, retreating to his Dark Horse and glaring at the black mare with confusion, fear, and anger.

"What the hell's wrong with her?" he demanded.

The woman patted Gypsy's neck and commanded, "Whoa, there, girl. Calm down, now." She looked at up him and explained, "She doesn't like some men. It depends with her. Sometimes, she'll stand there and let them pet her. Other times, she'll try to bite them. Apparently, you came off as a threatening person, and she doesn't take to men like that."

Jack scoffed. "What a load of bullshit."

The woman lifted a finger, interjecting him with a snarky comment, "No, Jack, not bullshit. _Horse_ shit."

"All I did was give her my hand to sniff at! I didn't do anything wrong."

"She and I are a lot alike," she replied, giving her horse a pat on the neck before tightening the back cinch. "We can tell whether a man's good or bad. Apparently, she caught the same whiff as I did when I first met you."

He rolled his eyes and tossed the Dark Horse's blanket and saddle on his back. "Women," he grumbled as he adjusted the saddle and blanket, making sure everything was ship-shape, before tightening the front cinch.

"Say what you will, Jack, but we women have a sort of intuition, a kind of kinship, and we know it well between us."

"I still am calling it all bullshit-Sorry, _horse_shit."

She laughed. "_Now _you're catching on."

Changing the subject, Jack asked, "So where'd you find this crazy mare?" He finished with the front cinch and began working on the back.

The woman criss-crossed the reins atop the saddle horn before putting her left foot in the stirrup. She gracefully mounted up, gathering the reins in her right hand and draping her lasso around the saddle horn with her left. "I found her in the wild," she stated simply, watching Jack saddle his dark steed. "Pa and I were riding out to pasture checking our cattle when…I saw her over by the river, looking quite beautiful as she drank." Her eyes glistened over as she recalled the memory in her mind's eye.

"So you brought her home and broke her?" he assumed as he finished saddling his steed. He quickly mounted before looking over at the woman, waiting patiently for her answer. Beneath him, the Dark Horse quivered with excitement. He frowned and gave his horse a soothing pat on the neck before gathering the reins up with his right hand. He too draped his lasso around the saddle horn.

She shook her head, smiling slightly at his ignorance. "She and I _joined up _in the wild. It took three days for me to be accepted as her friend and rider."

He blinked, confused, and adjusted himself in the saddle. "'Joined up'?"

She grinned. "I'll explain later." She nodded toward the open barn doors and reined her horse around. "C'mon, Marston. Let's concentrate first on getting out there and finding those mustangs before we talk about "breaking" horses." She clicked her tongue; Gypsy responded by walking forward calmly, her ears pricked and tail raised slightly.

Jack urged his horse after her, and he pulled up alongside Gypsy and asked, "So you know how to break horses, too, huh?" It seemed like such a joke to him, that she could be so talented in many a man's set of skills.

"Mm-hmm."

"I doubt that, lady. You're a little too small to be doin' man's work."

She glared over him. "Watch it, princess, before I shove my boot up your ass. I may be small, but I can do many of the same things that men can do. Hell, I can do it even better, in most cases. And despite your doubts, I know how to kick a man's ass…well, in your case, a _boy's _ass."

He chuckled darkly and shook his head. "Looks like a girl but punches like a man."

"That's right," she said with a proud smile.

As they rode through the ranch, many of the ranch hands inclined their hats to the woman in absolute respect, giving her cheery good mornings and smiling up at her. She tipped her hat to them and responded in kind. It almost didn't seem like her; it didn't make sense to Jack as he watched all this with wonder.

As they rode past the stagecoach and the train station, he shook his head and stated, "Well, ain't that a crock of shit. Here you are being gracious and angelic to these men when you're such a pain in the ass to me."

She scoffed and tossed her hair with a flick of her hand. "Like I said before, you haven't earned my respect yet. Give it time, and I might just give it to you."

He looked back over his shoulder, spotting several ranch hands staring after his supervisor with adoration in their eyes, among other strong emotions. He gave a sour humph and turned back around. He shook his head. "I don't get it."

"What?" she asked, glancing over at him as they walked their horses across the railroad tracks and onto the road. Clicking her tongue, she urged Gypsy into a trot.

"Nothing."

Jack didn't need to urge the Dark Horse to keep apace; the antsy gelding was itching to gallop, he could feel it. In his giddiness, the scarred steed gave a small crow-hop and a grunt of a nicker. With a harsh curse, Jack gathered the reins, his hands inching forward on them and shortening the horse's space to move his head. The piebald responded with a toss of his head, chewing anxiously at the bit and snorting. Irritated, his rider jerked back on the reins, jarring the horse's mouth and making him squeak with discomfort.

Seeing his cruelty on the horse, the woman threw him a fowl glare and scorned, "Give your horse his head, damn it! Be nice to that beast, even if _it _is a horrid nag."

Jack scowled back, keeping the Dark Horse at bay from bolting forward. "I know how to handle my horse, so back off, lady."

"You need to respect your horse, Marston. If you treat him harshly, he'll give you that right back."

He scoffed. "Horseshit."

"I'm fuckin' serious, boy! Horses may be animals, but we still need to treat them with kindness. You spoil a good horse with rotten behavior, like what you _just _did. Horses are the ones who grace us with the honor to carry us on their backs. You lose their respect, and you get bucked off, and for good reason, too." As an example, she clicked her tongue yet again; Gypsy obeyed and transitioned smoothly into an easy lope. "You see? Show your horse kindness and respect, and they'll give it right back. Horses are willing to please, if you'll just let them."

Jack shook his head. "You women and your horse-talk. What a load of-"

She silenced him by whipping him harshly on the leg with the ends of her reins. "No, you MEN and your dominative ways! Always trying to take control, always taking away freedom and choice and destroying life! That's all you men know what to do! Well, I've had enough of it!"

His leg smarted viciously. Through his pain, Jack hissed back, "And all you women do is let your judgment be clouded by emotion! You're always trying to save pointless things, fight pointless battles. Well, life isn't all daisies and clouds, lady! It's harsh and brutal, and it's short, so why waste your time being a push-over when you can just get past all that nonsense and get ahead in life?"

"What the hell type of logic is that, Jack?" she demanded, disgusted at him. "How can you think like that? At least I can feel and be empathetic. Unlike you, I take all those things into consideration when it comes to humans and animals."

Anger raged within him. "You're so full of shit!" he yelled. "You haven't _once _shown me any sort of empathy, _not once!_ You're such a hypocrite, lady!"

"That's because you're not human; you're something else, something feral and unearthly. With you, it's kill, kill, kill. You kill and rob without pity; you take whatever you wish without remorse. You're a criminal scum, unworthy of empathy and pity."

He narrowed his eyes at her, absolutely seething. "You've already established that I'm worthless. Can we move past that now?"

She shook her head. "Not until you've accepted that fact…in your heart." With that, she looked forward, effectively ending the harsh conversation, and urged her horse into a canter.

Jack followed suit, riding alongside her. He glared over at her, not finished with her just yet. He snapped back, "I already have accepted what I've done and what I've become. You just like to throw it all in my face repeatedly with no end or reason."

Without looking over at him, she responded matter-of-factually, "There's a method for my teachings, Jack. You just haven't caught on, or if you somehow have, you're just too proud to admit it. I don't see why, though, since you've got nothing to be proud of."

Much to his chagrin, he agreed, "You may be right, lady, but what else am I gonna do besides lay down and give up like an old lame horse?"

She laughed, her voice like a trill of bells. She grinned over at him, her hair flowing behind her majestically. The silvery mane of her horse flowed across her arms, as if trying to blend with her dark hair to create a perfect, black-and-white being galloping as one. Her eyes met his, and for a blind moment, he saw joy in them, joy at _him_, and he couldn't take his eyes off of it all. Transfixed, he watched her as she tugged her hat down tighter on her head.

"Well, I suppose not," she responded, a hint of a smile still in her voice. "Still, what is it with men and their pride? I'll _never _understand it, no matter _how _much time I spend working alongside the more brutish, visceral sex."

Jack felt the need to play the devil's advocate. He smirked slyly as he asked, "Well, what is it with women and their feelings? I'll _never _understand that."

She shrugged, casting aside his attempt at sparking up an argument with her. "Feelings aren't all bad, Marston. They're what make us human. You should give 'em a try. Hell, they might even do your wicked heart some good and get that cold piece of ice to start beating again, if it ever was."

He shook his head and looked forward with a determined frown. "I think I'll stick to being myself, thanks."

"You mean staying as a cold-hearted bastard?" she chided, this time playing the advocate as she glanced over at him with a racy smirk.

He grinned back at her, enjoying the banter between them. "Yes, ma'am."

She gasped sarcastically in overzealous shock, her eyebrows raising comically high upon her brown and her mouth dropping open. "My, oh my! Marston just showed me some respect!" She clutched at her chest and pretended to be experiencing horrible pain. "I do believe I'm gonna have a heart attack."

He beamed at her. "Be sure that you do. It'll rid me of your annoying little sass-mouth. And that's all the respect you'll be getting from me for the rest for the day, so take that to heart and with a silver spoon, miss."

She played along with a dashing smile. "You'll be sorely disappointed to know I'm not gonna die off _that _easily, Mister Marston. I'm a tough old bird of sorts."

"Ah, damn it!" he yelled, pretending to be highly offended and frustrated.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence save for the monotonous, thundering hoof beats and the panting of the horses as they galloped down the road. They had turned off the road before it led them down into Cholla Springs, and so they galloped on across the plains, roaming about in-between patches of dense woods and open prairie land. They had spooked up several herds of deer, a pack of coyotes, a multitudinous array of birds, and other smaller wildlife, but there was no sign of the small band of horses. Despite the despairing chances so far, the two rode on in search of their quarry.

The silence was almost unbearable for Jack. He had come to enjoy talking with the woman and listening to the way she talked. He found it puzzling and mystifying to listen to her pleasant voice. He guessed she was of Irish descent: she had a faded trill that almost completely disappeared from spending so much time working around ranch hands with Southern accents that she forgot her own and picked up on theirs. _So is her family Irish, then? _he thought with wonder. _Goddamn it, I wish she'd just hurry up and tell me her story already. I'd settle for her name at least to begin with._

He was about to voice his thoughts to her when she suddenly gasped and exclaimed, "Look! There they are!" She pointed off the right, towards a vast expanse of plain, to a small band of about ten mustangs, all beautiful in their various colors and sizes, mostly ranging from paints and pintos to sorrels and bays. The matriarch of the band, a middle-aged-looking bay mare, had sounded the bugle of warning at the first sign of approaching danger, and the herd immediately took off behind her lead in a thunder of hoof falls and a tumultuous cloud of dust.

"Let's get 'em, Marston! HYAH!"

Without warning, the woman and her horse took off after the herd, zooming forward and leaving Jack and the Dark Horse quickly behind. Jack stared on in fascination as she urged her black mare after a beautiful pinto filly, her lasso a tan tornado above her head. It all looked ridiculously easy how she raced on in hot pursuit of her target; she had skillfully cut the youngling from the herd and was chasing her off to the side, keeping her horse between her target and the band of mustangs that were disappearing from sight.

In the next instant, her lasso was securely around the horse's neck; the other end of the rope was wrapped several times around the saddle horn. The captured filly squealed with terror and bolted forward, throwing her front legs out wildly and pulling with her back legs. The horse tried her hardest to race back to her band, and she gave a trumpeting call out to them but received no answer. She kicked, crow-hopped, bucked, and reared, fighting for her freedom from the strange creature that held her at bay atop one of her own kind, a tame and unusual version of her kin.

Gradually, the woman eased her horse down to a steady lope as the filly fought and played herself out, so that by the time she had come to a complete stop, the mustang was standing still, panting heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat. She sat still atop Gypsy, keeping a watchful eye on the beautiful filly to make sure she hadn't hurt herself. She began to talk soothingly to the mustang, even though she knew she was wild and was terrified of her. Still, she tried to console her as best as she could with soft, reassuring words. It was all she could do for now as she sat in the saddle. It was still too early to decide how the filly would react to her on the ground; she wasn't too eager to find that out, either.

Quite suddenly, the woman looked up and met gazes with Jack. She was two hundred yards away, but her voice traveled far and clear as she shouted incredulously, "Well?! Don't just stand there, Marston! Go get one!"

With a determined nod, he turned his horse around and took off in the direction of where he saw the band last. He kicked and kicked the Dark Horse, urging him into a full-blown sprint across the plains. His eyes scanned around as he searched for the mustangs, and he began to grow fearful that they had run off too far from him.

"Goddamn it," he whispered harshly. He rode on, topping a small hill before riding down the somewhat steep side and continuing on.

His horse never once broke speed; the terrain didn't effect him as much, and so it came to a great advantage when he finally spotted the band not too far from where Pike's Basin was. Elated, he spurred his horse on, making him toss his head in aggravation. There was only so much his horse could do, and he was once again pushing him to his limits.

A streak of cream-colored hide and a flash of pearl-white mane and tail caught Jack's eye amidst the tightly-woven bodies of horses. His sights honed in on a beautiful palomino stallion, the only stallion to be a part of the band and ironically the closest mustang to him, and he immediately reined his horse after him. The sunlight shimmered across the stallion's coat, dazzling Jack more and making him yearn for the horse. He was a fine animal, full of rippling muscle and seemingly becoming the very essence of freedom itself. This time, he wasn't going to let them get away. That palomino was his, and he was determined to capture him.

"HYAH!" he screamed to his horse, who galloped on in response despite his exhaustion. Foam began to accumulate around the Dark Horse's neck, withers, and sides, but Jack kicked him forward. His scarred steed flattened his ears to his head; his hooves pounded an incredible speed beneath him. The land around him sailed by as Jack rode closer and closer behind the palomino. As he inched nearer, he unfurled his lasso and, holding the reins with his left hand, he took up the lasso in his right and performed a few practice swings above his head, getting the feel of his lasso again after what seemed like so damn long ago. He swung the lasso several more times, getting the loop wide enough and the speed of his rope fast enough for the throw. But the palomino was still too far away for him to make a decent toss.

"Work, ya damn nag!" he roared down to his horse, kicking him harshly.

With another toss of his head, the Dark Horse angrily obeyed and galloped right behind the stallion. It was either now or never. Aiming at the horse's head, Jack took a few more swings above his head before throwing the lasso at his target.

He was stunned when his aim met its mark. He was almost too surprised to realize the horse began pulling away, taking the rope along with him. Panicking, he quickly wrapped the end of the lasso four times around the saddle horn and eased his sweating steed down to a canter.

The palomino threw his head forward and tried desperately to gallop away, but his head was bent back by the lasso; still, he galloped on. The lasso grew dangerously taut by the horse's sudden lunge, so Jack galloped his horse behind the stallion, gradually slowing both the Dark Horse and the mustang every hundred yards.

"Come on, slow down, you," he called to the mustang as he pulled the Dark Horse back to a lope. The palomino still continued to struggle, his golden coat shimmering with sweat and the whites of his eyes showing.

"C'mon now, relax!"

For ten more minutes, the mustang loped on, still fighting against the rope. Jack merely let him play himself out, gradually slowing his mount to an eventual stop. Even when he had pulled up the Dark Horse, the palomino still fought, bucking and rearing viciously and flailing his head and front legs about in his struggle. The horse bellowed out terrified, exhausted squeals and grunts, snorting and blowing every so often. His ears were plastered back flat against his golden head; his brown eyes rolled about in their sockets, the whites plainly showing. His grey hooves tore up the ground he battled upon, creating large, billowing clouds of dust.

Soon, the woman came loping up with her pinto mustang in tow. The filly had all but given up; she too still fought against the rope, tossing her head and bucking occasionally. Nonetheless, she followed.

"You got him?" she called as she rode up. She stopped her horse and the mustang twenty yards away, giving him and the stallion plenty of room.

"Y-Yeah," Jack panted back, keeping his horse still as the mustang before him reared and flailed his front legs out desperately. He gave a fearful trumpeting neigh before landing back down and bucking.

"You certainly caught yourself a wild one, Jack. Are you sure you can handle this big boy?" the woman asked, concern slipping into her voice. Beneath her, Gypsy blew loudly and lowered her head. The mare was exhausted, and her sides were covered in sweat. She panted loudly, her nostrils flaring. Behind her, the mustang filly stood the same way. She was too tired to continue fighting.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jack answered reassuringly. "I just wish he'd hurry up and stop struggling. You'd think he would be tired by now."

"He's just scared is all. You would be, too, if you were in his position."

He scoffed. "If I were in his position, I'd calm down and be done with it all."

She shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. If you were him and if it was me on the other end of that lasso, you'd be doing the same thing."

He didn't respond as he watched the palomino rear once more, tossing his pearl-colored mane and blazed muzzle about wildly in a vain effort to free himself from the lasso. Jack shook his head, amazed by the magnificent beauty and stamina of the beast. "It's like he doesn't have a point of exhaustion. He just keeps going and going."

"He'll tire himself out, princess. Give it time. When he's good and sweaty, we'll walk these mustangs around for a bit, let them get used to being led, before we take them back to the ranch. That's when the real work will begin."

An hour later, after the mustangs had settled down and had become acclimated to their captors' non-aggressive presence, Jack and the woman began the long ride back. It was mid-day by the time they began the slow trek back to the ranch. They let their horses plod along at a slow walk, pulling the mustangs along behind them. Occasionally, one of the mustangs would rear or buck, but would then calm and walk on. Both horses and riders were drained of adrenaline, and so were the mustangs. Needless to say, the ride back was slow and somewhat calm.

A strange, surreal silence drifted between Jack and the woman. All that could be heard was the four sets of hooves that plodded along down the road, the occasional snort or sigh interrupting the monotony. It was a calm, enveloping silence that was enjoyable to ride in. Conversation wasn't a necessity at the time. However, after two hours, the silence was ended when the woman looked over at the Dark Horse and spoke up.

"So, Jack, what's your horse's name? I don't think you've ever mentioned it."

He raised an eyebrow, taken off-guard by her random inquiry. "Umm…Horse…?"

She scoffed and looked at him with a quaint frown. "Oh, _that's _original. Why not just call him Red-Eyed Bastard?"

"That'll work," he agreed sarcastically, laughing at her response. He nodded to her black mare. "So, this is…Gypsy, right?"

She nodded.

"Where'd you come up with the name?"

She shrugged and pursed her lips. "Don't know. The name just came to me one day, and it just fit." She motioned to the palomino he led with a jerk of her head and asked, "So what are you gonna name him?"

Jack rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed groan. "Must you women name _everything?_" He glanced back over his shoulder at the stallion, looking him over briefly, before facing forward and offered, "How 'bout Trigger?"

"Pssh! What kind of a name is that?"

"Bullet?"

"Hell no."

"Sunny?"

She glared at him, her chin tucked slightly. "That's worse." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You're absolutely horrible at this, princess."

He gave an angry sigh and tossed his head, losing his patience with her. "Well, why don't _you _name the son of a bitch then, since you're so hell-bent on it?"

The sound of plodding hoof falls permeated the silence between them as the woman pondered. She stared out ahead of them down the road, biting her lip in thought.

"How about…Sundance?"

"Good enough for me," Jack grunted, not caring, though deep down he felt the name sounded perfect for the stallion. He motioned to the filly she led with a nod and asked, "So what crazy sort of name are you gonna call her?"

She thought for a moment. "Féileacán."

"What?"

She threw him an annoyed scowl. " Féileacán," she repeated, "It means "butterfly" in Irish. It was either that or Lassie. She just reminds me of a dainty little creature, a beautiful butterfly. And she really _is _a beautiful, precious thing. So Féileacán it is."

Jack scoffed and looked away. "You and your names."

"Well, at least they're original, unlike Horse or Sunny."

"Whatever. Do I really need to waste my time naming things?"

"Yes."

He sighed and looked away again. "Whatever."

An hour later, he and the woman rode into MacFarlance's ranch, their mounts enervated and eagerly awaiting for the chance to drink their fill and be rid of their tack. They caught the attention of nearly every ranch hand as they rode to the horse corral; many pairs of eyes looked over the two tired riders and the mustangs they'd captured. Jack recognized Eli Jones as he came rushing up to the corral gate and ushering them in.

"My, oh, My! Ya sho got some fine lookin' hosses!" he exclaimed with a bright smile, looking over the mustangs with a gleam in his eye.

"Indeed we do," the woman replied with a smile and a tip of her hat. She nudged Gypsy's sides with her heels, and the horse walked forward, leading the pinto filly, as well as Jack and his palomino. The black man rushed forward, skirting around the many horses that walked about in the corral, and opened the round pen gate. At long last, Jack and the woman were able to take the lassos off the mustangs and free the exhausted horses into the pen. Finally, they dismounted their horses after spending almost the entire day in the saddle. It was around five in the evening, and they were just now able to walk around and stretch their legs.

"Lemme take ya hosses from ya," Eli offered generously, holding out his gloved hands for their reins.

"Why, thank you, Eli," the woman said with a grateful smile and handed him Gypsy's reins. Jack followed suit, and the two watched as the black man led their mounts to the barn to be taken care of. Once the horses were out of sight, Jack and the woman turned around and leaned up against the round pen, resting their elbows on the top board and admiring the horses they'd brought back home. The mustangs had begun to get frightful and were trotting about their pen, their ears swiveling about and their tails swishing as they searched for a way to freedom. Their imprisonment terrified them.

Jack lifted his right boot up to rest it on the bottom board of the fence, sighing as he gazed the trembling beasts with a mixture of pity and awe. He suddenly felt sorry for them, and he felt a strange connection to them then as he watched them trot and lope around in the pen, churning up dust with their hooves and snorting nervously.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" his supervisor murmured.

He nodded sadly. He felt oddly empathetic to the stallion and filly. _I too know imprisonment_, he thought with a frown. _I too know the feeling of being forced into a small cage._ "It's a shame that something so beautiful should be fenced in, though." He looked away from the horses briefly to meet gazes with her. They stood relatively close; to be standing side-by-side with her sent his heart a-fluttering for some strange reason, and it only beat faster when he looked into her eyes.

A strange twinkle entered her eyes as she gave him a curious look. "It is a shame, yes, but it is the way of things, Jack. In the end, we all get caged in our little way, sometimes caging ourselves on our own making. It happens to everyone. Freedom can be taken away just as easily as it can be granted, though, as you'll soon find out, it can also be found through captivity."

He gestured to the horse with a hand. "But these animals were born free. They didn't have a say in their capture."

"True, but it is the way of things. I can only hope that these two will grant us the wings that horses give to people when they ride them. I hope that, in due time, these two will become fine working horses with great dispositions and great work ethic, so that when it comes time to sell them, they will be of good use to people who will honor them."

Jack furrowed his brow. "What sort of foolish stuff are you saying, lady?"

She rolled her eyes, hating how she had to simplify things for him. "They are gonna become cow ponies. We're gonna tame them and sell them. Money is the goal here."

Disgusted, Jack shook his head and leaned away from the round pen, taking his boot off the fence. He eyed the horses with pity before turning to leave.

"And guess who's gonna be the one to do the "breaking"…"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at her over his shoulder with a disbelieving glare. "You've got to be joking."

She shook her head and leaned away from the pen. She turned to face him. "I'm not joking, princess." She gestured to the mustangs with a wave of her hand. "This is your responsibility now, Jack. Starting tomorrow, these horses will be your next job, boy, your responsibility. You will be taming these horses, and you will do this the correct way, my way. I think you'll come to enjoy this job. Through it, I think you'll find the freedom you've been longing for these past few weeks."

He shook his head, refusing to accept it all. "No. I'm not taking their freedom. I'm not breaking them."

She scoffed and put her hands on her hips. "You're not thinking the same as I am. You're thinking of the traditional way, of "breaking" these horses. What I do is different and more effective. I don't "break" horses, I _join up _with them."

"There it is again, this "joining up"," he growled, walking back to her. He stood before her and crossed his arms. "What the hell is "joining up", anyway? Is it some woman thing, or what?"

"I'll show you everything I know, princess," she replied, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't get your panties in a bunch before the real work begins. Now, go get these poor horses some hay and water. Then you can get to your chores for the night before you turn in. We'll let these two get a good feel of their surroundings before we start with ground work tomorrow."


	4. Part 4: Join Up

**Sorry for the late update, guys. As I said in my last update, school and work are keeping me semi-busy. I hope to update once a week, if I can. Otherwise, I'll still keep plugging along on this fan fic. I won't abandon it, so don't worry. To all my followers, old and new, _THANK YOU! _So here's Part 4, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Part 4:**

**Join Up**

The lunge line and halter felt awkward in his hands. He stared down at them stupidly, holding them slight aloft before him with numb fingers.

_What the fuck am I doing?_ he thought. His brow creased, and he frowned deeply. He felt his cheeks burn; he was embarrassed and didn't have a clue as to what he was doing. _This is stupid_, he concluded as he looked up at the woman who had placed both objects into his hands.

She cocked an expecting eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. "Well?"

"I'm not doin' this."

"You'll do as you're told, boy. Now get in there and work with him."

"This is absolutely ridiculous, lady," he argued, stalling. "The chances of me," he paused to taste the foreign words on his tongue and hated it, "_joining up _with that horse is just-"

"Stop fucking around and get in the round pen, Marston." Irritated, she uncrossed her arms and put her hands on her hips. "Now!"

"I…" He paused, not knowing how to say what made him feel ashamed.

"Yes?" she asked impatiently, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her hair swaying from side to side from the movement.

"I…don't have a clue what I'm doing, miss. I've never broken a horse like this. Pa just always showed me the way he knew."

"You mean the cruel, sadistic way of tying up the horse's legs with rope and yanking them out from underneath them so you can pin him down long enough to forcibly strap on a saddle and bridle and ride him till he bucks himself nearly to death?"

He nodded, wincing inwardly at her viciously accurate description. "I guess."

"We're NOT "breaking" these horses, Mister Marston, let me make that VERY clear to you. What I'm teaching you to do is different. Rather than forcing the horse into submission through torture and cruelty, you gain his trust and friendship through unification. You become his herd-mate, leader, and, most importantly, his friend."

"Well, yeah, I understand that, but…" He ran a hand over his face, flustered. "But I don't have a goddamned clue as to what I'm doing here. I don't know the first thing about joining up."

"That's why I'm here," she said, gathering her lunge line and halter in her hands. She had slung them over her shoulder and took to fiddling with them to busy herself as she spoke to him. "I'll talk you through it, Jack."

"But what if I screw it up? It's not like I've got a hell of a lot of experience."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she exclaimed, throwing up a hand and looking off to the side in her frustration. She sighed heavily and bowed her head, bringing up her right hand to pinch the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb. She took a moment to recollect herself before asking calmly, "Do you want me to demonstrate for you, princess?"

"Yes."

"Fine, then. Get the stallion out of the round pen. I'll drive the filly in there and show you how it's done."

Within ten minutes, they had driven the stallion into a smaller pen off to the side before replacing the filly in his stead. Once driven into the pen, the pinto loped about, frightened and looking for a way out. The woman let the mustang run about for a minute to let her become aware of her surroundings. During that time, Jack noticed a crow of ranch hands had begun to gather around the pen; all eyes were fixed on the feisty horsewoman as she entered the pen with lunge line and halter in hand. Eagerly, he leaned his elbows on the top board of the round pen. He watched his supervisor intently, and once again he caught himself admiring her, especially when she took off her duster and hat so as not to spook the filly further. He couldn't help but think, _My God, she's…just something to behold. She just looks so natural working with horses. _He watched, transfixed, as her long waterfall of dark-brown hair flowed and swayed lazily behind her back as a light breeze began to blow. He felt his eyes widen at the sight. _She really IS pretty…_

He was surprised when she walked up to him and held out her things overtop the fence. "Hold these for me, and keep a sharp eye while I join up with Féileacán. You're gonna be doing the same thing with Sundance here in a while, so pay attention and don't daze off."

He nodded dumbly and received her things, draping her duster over his shoulder and holding her hat delicately in his hands. "Um…okay." It sounded more like a question than a statement.

She took on a new countenance, an aura of aggression and leader-like disposition as she turned and faced the filly. She squared her shoulders, taking on a rigid, masculine stance and looking the mustang in the eyes. The filly looked back as she paced the fence across from her.

Her arm jerked forward in a vicious motion as she threw the end of the lunge line at the rump of the filly. Tossing her head, the mustang shied away, kicking wildly at it. The woman lashed the line again, making the horse lope around the round pen. She intently watched the horse's head, occasionally urging her on with the line whenever she slowed her gait. She faced the horse incessantly, never taking her eyes off the filly's. Both females kept their full focus on the other.

Five minutes into the ground work, Jack noticed the filly flicked her closest ear towards the woman. She tossed her head and swished her tail, irritated at the monotony. In response to this, the woman took a commanding step forward and, bringing her hand up, threw the line in front of the filly, causing her to jerk to a stop and whip around. She lashed the line again, and the filly loped on in the opposite direction. She did this several times, mixing it up every once in a while by making the filly jink to the right, then to the left, then right again, then back left, before making her run forward once more. She worked the horse hard, making her dance about and understand that she was the one in charge.

Jack was growing bored and impatient after ten minutes of this. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his knees creaking and his spurs jingling. _Okay…so what am I supposed to be getting? All she's doing is making the horse run around her. That's it. What's the point in all this horseshit? _Sighing, he spoke his thoughts, his voice holding an annoyed tone.

Without taking her eyes off the filly, the woman responded, "Keep watching. There's a point to all this."

"Such as?"

"What I'm doing right now is showing her I'm in charge. In the wild, the lead mare chases away awnry colts and fillies whenever they do something wrong. She chases them away, roughly 'bout a quarter of a mile, before she stops and stands there watching the foal. She stares at them, right in the eyes, and faces them fully, like what I'm doing."

Jack grew confused. "But she didn't do anything wrong, lady."

She turned the horse around and made her run the other way with a swift, graceful flick of the lunge line. "I'm showing her that _I'm _in charge, that _I'm _gonna be her leader. Right now, I'm making her run that fourth of a mile. Right now, I'm the matriarch putting her in her place. Soon, she'll show me her submissiveness, and when that happens, I'll point that out to you. So keep watching."

He found that hard to do, however, when his mind began to wander and his eyes had fallen on another feisty female. He caught himself staring at the woman more than once, once again noticing how well-fit her rancher clothing was to her curvy body, how full and supple her chest and backside were, how her long hair whipped and flew about behind and all around her as she worked the horse. It was hard to reset his focus to the task at hand. If he was to emulate her, he would have to start concentrating, and fast. Shaking his head, he tried refocusing on watching the woman work the horse.

"Ya doin' all right, boy?" came a familiar voice to his left. Jack looked over and noticed Eli Jones had come up to him and was resting his elbows on the fence. He had taken his spot beside the flustered young man, tipping his hat in greeting with a sassy, knowing smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah, I'm doin' just fine," Jack replied and cleared his throat. He rested his left boot up on the bottom board of the fence, his spur singing out at the movement, and pretended to be intensely interested on the horsemanship the woman demonstrated and at the beautiful filly she was making lope around the pen.

"She sho knows her hosses," the Negro commented softly, following Jack's gaze and watching the woman do her job well.

He nodded, fearing where the conversation might go. "Yes, she does."

The black man tapped his shoulder with the back of his hand before pointing to the females. "Watch, I bet she gon join up with that hoss in 'bout ten mo minutes er so. I betcha a dolluh, mistuh."

Jack grinned. "I'll take that bet. You're on, old timer."

The men shook hands on it; Eli took out his pocket watch and began timing it.

Several minutes passed, and the woman still worked the horse around the pen. Just as Jack was getting bored once more and his eyes and thoughts began to drift up and down her body, the conversation he and Eli had shared began again, only this time the older man took it to the direction Jack didn't want him to.

"So…," the Negro began, glancing at Jack out of the corner of his eye. A sly smirk began to tug at the corners of his full lips.

He returned the glance in a slight glare. "Yeah?"

"I gots another bet fo ya, boy, if ya willin' ta hear it."

He swallowed nervously. "Alright."

"Well, I was gonna ask ya somethin' first."

Jack threw him an annoyed look. "Come on, old man. Get to it already."

He nudged his arm playfully and leaned in closer, murmuring in his ear, "So, when are ya gonna _join up _wit that perdy lil' lady a yours?" He let out the booming, cackling laugh that everyone on the ranch had come to know and love.

Terrified and growing embarrassed, Jack punched the man's arm and whispered harshly, "Shut up, Eli!" He looked about at the fair amount of men that grew curious at the black man's laugh. Usually when Eli was laughing at something, everyone else wanted to hear it.

"C'mon, boy, it's only ten dolluhs. I betcha you gon fall fo her 'n' try ta win her hawt."

"And I bet _you _that I won't!"

Eli gave a snicker, looking like a giddy schoolboy who had just discovered a fowl secret. "So ya gonna take up on that bet, then, boy?"

"I haven't shook on it, nor will I, mister," Jack spat back, looking back at his overseer and the filly with furrowed eyebrows. "That bet ain't worth the hassle."

Eli shoved his shoulder gently with his. "Ah, c'mon, Jack. It's not like I'm bettin' a _hundred _dolluhs. That there'd be _crazy_." He offered a callused, inviting hand to him, his smile brightening.

Jack glared down at it with contempt, a furious battle raging within. He dreaded the thought of taking up on this bet for many reasons: one, if he lost and fell for her, he'd not only owe him money, he'd lose whatever dignity he had left and would never redeem himself of his humility brought upon by the bet; two, if he won, he'd gain the small amount of wealth but would lose the chance to try to win her over, and he'd never forgive himself for that.

_Oh, goddamn it_, he thought with a scowl. _This bastard's got me in a bind. _He glared up at him and demanded, "Who's to say I want her, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm bettin' that ya do," he chuckled back. "In fact, ya might as well gimme it right now." He held out an expectant hand and waved his fingers at Jack, smiling gleefully.

"You ain't _ever _gettin' my money, Eli. You can bet your ass on _that_, mister."

"We can only be sho if ya shake mah hand right now, boy." Again, he offered it to him, waiting patiently.

Jack sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. With great reluctance, he took the man's hand and shook it half-heartedly, feeling an inescapable pit swell within his stomach. However, he put on his tough-man's mask and boldly stated, "You're gonna lose that bet, old man. I'll show you that I'm NOT fallin' for her. _You'll _be the one with a lighter wallet and a shameful heart, Eli, NOT me."

Eli merely beamed with renewed confidence and giddiness, happy to see he'd gotten his friend hot and bothered. "Oh, we'll see, Mistuh Mawsten. We'll see."

With the deal struck, the men turned and resumed watching the skilled horsewoman work her magic in the round pen with the pinto mustang.

Amidst his dread and humility, Jack noticed a change in the filly as she loped around the woman. With her closest ear still turned toward the horsewoman, she lowered her muzzle to the ground twice, licking her lips and making chewing motions.

"There!" the woman cried to Jack. "Right there is submissiveness." Abruptly, she turned around, facing the opposite direction from the filly.

The filly stopped on a dime, her hooves embedding into the trodden soil. She swung her head toward the woman, ears perked forward, and she cautiously walked up behind her, bobbing her head down several times and chewing. The pinto stopped behind her and nudged her back gingerly with her pink muzzle. In reward, the woman slowly turned back around, keeping her gaze away from the filly's blue eyes that sought redemption and friendship. Carefully, she raised her left hand up, letting the horse get several good whiffs of her scent, before petting the pinto's forehead in a circular motion.

All around the two, the crowd of ranch hands applauded and shook their heads, astounded by her success. At last, the two were joined up in what would most likely become a strong bond of friendship. With a smile, the woman turned and began walking around the pen. As was expected by all who watched, the filly followed close behind, looking relieved and happy.

Jack stared with open-mouthed awe. "My God…"

Eli shared the sentiment, shaking his head. "She really is a hoss whisperuh, I tell ya, boy." He checked his pocket watch and smirked. He nudged Jack's arm and showed him the time. "You owe me a dolluh, Jack, like I done told ya before."

"You'll have to take that up with Bonnie," he replied, his pride slightly bruised. "She has my things."

Eli nodded. "Sho 'nuff, son."

As she led the mustang around the pen, the euphony of clapping died down as she spoke, "You see, gentlemen? Patience, time, and respect is all it takes. There's always more than one way to do something, and taking the gentler way is often the better route when it comes to horses." She stopped in front of Jack; the filly stopped as well, nuzzling her hand. With a grin, she petted the horse again graciously. "Good girl, Féileacán. That's a good little sweetheart." She turned her attention back to Jack and nodded suggestively to him. "Your turn, princess."

He blinked. "What? Me? Now, in front of all these people?" His heart became clutched in the icy claws of trepidation; he took a step back from her.

She nodded as she slipped the halter cautiously onto the filly's head. She took her time, going at the speed which the horse was comfortable with. "It's now or never, Jack. You and Sundance need to join up as soon as possible so you can start ground work with him."

He bit down on his lower lip and looked to the side, unable to come up with a viable argument to stall with.

She noticed his hesitance and cocked an eyebrow. "You _were _watching, weren't you?" Her fingers meticulously finished buckling the halter to the horse's head, her eyes never leaving Jack.

Before he had a chance to answer, Eli piped up beside him. "Oh, he sho was a-watchin' you, make no mistake 'bout that, ma'am!" He let out a booming cackle, his upper body trembling from the giddy force, and he slapped Jack's arm with the back of his hand as he turned and walked away, chuckling and guffawing all the while.

Jack watched him go with a seething gaze, his anger fuming. _That slimy son of a bitch_, he thought, feeling a corner of his lip pull up into a vicious sneer. _I'll get him back for that._

The woman watched all of this with a perplexed expression, and she shook her head dismissively at it all and murmured, "I don't even want to know." She busied herself by grabbing carefully onto Féileacán's halter and leading her out of the round pen. Once outside, she pushed the horse's rump, urging her to wander off in the corral that they all stood in. "Go on, Féileacán. Go explore, girl. I'm done with you for the day."

The filly warily took a few steps forward, casting uncertain looks back at her human partner.

"Go on, lassie. We'll continue tomorrow." She shooed her away.

As if in complete understanding, the pinto swished her black and white tail once in salute before walking off toward the water trough for a refreshing drink. Her brown and white body ambled slowly, casually away.

The woman watched her newest pupil wander off with an affectionate twinkle in her eyes. She smiled softly before looking back at Jack and retrieving her things from him. She casually shrugged on her duster and plopped her hat over her head, tugging it down to a snug fit. She looked at him with raised eyebrows and took a sassy stance, her weight on her left leg and her hands on her hips.

"Well?"

He pretended to not know what she was referring to. "What?"

"Go get the stallion and join up with him."

He frowned and grabbed the lunge line and halter from his shoulder. His fingers fiddled with the line, and he gave a despairing sigh before heading to where they had contained the palomino.

The next half hour was spent trying to herd the stallion into the round pen. Jack and the woman, along with four other ranch hands, eventually drove him into the pen. The second he ran through the gate, it was closed and secured, ensuring his imprisonment.

"Finally!" Jack panted, leaning up against the pen as he tried to catch his breath.

His overseer nodded and panted along with him. "And now…the real work begins." She motioned to the palomino within the pen with a tired jerk of her head. "Get in there, Marston. It's time you two joined up."

He held up a hand as he tried to slow his breathing. "Gimme a minute."

"Sure, but as soon as you're back to normal, I don't want you lollygaggin' around anymore, Jack. You've already put this off for far too long as it is."

He averted her piercing gaze, not wanting to answer.

"Princess, you listenin' to me?"

He frowned at her. "I hear you. It's just…Well, I'm…"

"Scared?" she laughed.

He shot her a nasty look. "No."

"Pssh! Don't lie to me, ya little sunflower. Now put on your big boy britches and go in there and work with him."

"Alright, alright, I'm goin'!" Angrily, he hefted up the lunge line and halter, bringing himself up with forced confidence, and opened the gate. He slipped in quietly, closing the gate behind him.

The stallion slid to a stop the second he walked into the pen. The mustang's eyes locked onto his; his nostrils flared and his ears pricked forward as he took in the human's appearance and scent. Jack stared back, caught momentarily off-guard as he and the horse sized each other up from opposite ends of the round pen. For the longest moment, the males faced each other. The tension they created was almost suffocating to those who stood around the pen; all around, the ranch hands gathered, watching intently to see which one would initiate the battle of masculinity. Jack glanced at the men all around, then at his supervisor, and he began to feel the swell of stage fright rise up from his stomach and into his chest. His heart began to dance. Swallowing thickly, he looked back at the stallion, shouldered the halter, and gathered the lunge line in his hands.

_Okay…Here goes nothing._

He lashed the end of the line at the stallion's rump, attempting to come off as aggressive and commanding as his overseer did when she demonstrated with the filly earlier. He knew that even as he did it, it ended p looking rather ridiculous, laughable even. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as he gathered the rope back up again in his hands. He watched the stallion trot loftily away, only to stop and stand still before him with one ear cocked back, as if to say, "Really? Is that all you got?"

_Well, shit, _he thought with a frown. His eyebrows narrowing with forced determination, he threw the rope out at the stallion again.

"That's it, princess," the woman cheered behind him. "Square your shoulders. Look him in the eyes and mean it, boy. _You _are his leader now, so show him that!"

Her words sparked a flame of cocky tenacity, and he flicked the rope at the palomino, puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders. The stallion responded by shying away with a kick and an angry toss of his head.

"Good! Now, get him to run around the pen. Use your rope and your body language to force him around."

Again, he lashed out at the horse, glaring at him in the eyes and taking a commanding step forward.

The horse loped away from him before going around the pen once…before suddenly jinking toward him and charging with mouth open wide and ears pinned back flat again his head. Jack barely had time to shy to the side to avoid being trampled. He countered the attack by smacking the horse's side with the rope, making him side-kick powerfully by the tickling touch.

"That's it, boy! Dance with him!" came an encouraging shout from one of the ranch hands.

Several other men joined in with their own cheers. His confidence building, Jack lashed the rope at the horse again. The mustang responded as he wanted, loping around the pen. His ears were still flat against his head; his eyes still held a wild, angry look. Nevertheless, the horse obeyed Jack's command. Every once in a while, he made the horse change direction, emulating his overseer's technique. The horse would play along, letting himself be seen as a tamable animal to the humans' eyes. Occasionally, he charged at Jack, but the young man would jump to the side and respond with more flicks of the rope. Both horse and man could feel the tension and anger build as time went on. Half an hour into it, Jack got the scare of his life from the one animal he thought he didn't fear.

Half-way around the pen, the palomino suddenly turned and charged, sprinting toward Jack and flailing his front hooves out toward his chest. Jack backpedaled wildly, scrambling to get out of the dangerous range of his front legs. The stallion reared up high before him, throwing up his front legs before suddenly driving them down at the human's head.

"Jack! Get out of there! NOW!" the woman shouted.

He barely had time to turn and dive underneath the fence before the large grey hooves stomped viciously on the ground where he had stood just moments ago. Jack crawled on his elbows, pulling his body out from under the fence to safety on the other side. Behind him, the palomino half-reared before coming back down and pawing fiercely at the ground. The ground trembled from the power of the beast; Jack felt himself shiver with terror.

From out of nowhere, he was getting pulled up to his feet by several pairs of hands, including his supervisor's. Panting, encumbered, and angry, Jack shrugged off their hands and stood up straight, trying to retain whatever dignity he had left.

"Are you all right, Jack?" his overseer asked, her eyes wide with worry. She looked him over, checking for any serious injuries.

He averted her concerned gaze and dusted himself off. He was too angry to answer right away.

"Jack?" She paced a wary hand on his arm.

"I'm fine, damn it!" he snapped and slapped her hand away. "Leave me be, all of you!" He glared around at the three men who circled him.

"You almost got killed, boy," one of them stated, flabbergasted by his reaction. "Are you sure you're-"

"YES! I'm just fine and dandy, alright? Now fuck off, the lot of you!"

The men held up their hands and backed away. One by one, they turned and walked away back to their chores, casting disgusted and angry glances at the rude young man. Once all help was gone, the woman faced Jack with a mixture of disappointment and rage on her face.

"What the hell was that?!" she demanded. She gestured to the men leaving. "They were just worried for your well-being, Jack! You didn't have to be a fuckin' prick to them!" She put her hands on her hips and gave him an admonishing glare, her hair sliding over her shoulders and falling gracefully across her chest.

Jack looked at her briefly, crossing his arms in response to her aggression. "Why the fuck do you care, of all people? And why do _they _care, for that matter? I'm just the criminal bastard who's slaving away here, so what's all the fuss about me being the center of attention all of the sudden? I've had enough of this bullshit from everyone! I don't need bein' pitied or looked at like a kid."

"Those men were HELPING you, Jack! God forbid people ever help you and be nice to you." She shook her head, appalled by his reasoning.

His eyebrows grew heavy over his dark eyes. "Well, you sure as hell didn't help me in there when that crazy son of a bitch was trying to trample me."

"You were doin' just fine, as far as I could tell."

He scoffed and looked away from her, glaring off into space and huffing.

She sighed and ran a hand across her face. She took her hat off, ran a hand through her hair, before putting it back on and tugging it down onto her head. She sighed again, heavier the second time. "Do you want to try joining up again?"

He snapped his head back toward her with a stupefied, outraged countenance. "After what that fuckin' horse tried to do to me, do you REALLY thing I wanna-"

"_FINE!" _the woman roared, throwing her hands down at her sides. "If _you're _too much of a chicken shit, then _I'll _do your job for you, you cowardice prick!"

"No, you won't," came a familiar voice off to the side.

Turning away from the start of a nasty stare-down, the two looked over and saw Bonnie walking up to them. Jack felt himself visibly shrink in the presence of the strong-willed woman. He couldn't bare to look her in the eyes as she came to stand before them and crossed her arms tersely.

"This is _his _job, like you said. So let him join up with the horse. He needs to do this."

"But he almost got killed, Miss MacFarlane!" the woman pointed out.

"That's because he didn't put on his bastard-scowl he usually has on his face." She looked Jack over and shook her head. "What happened? Why did you not join up with the stallion?"

Jack waved viciously at the stallion and exclaimed, _"He almost killed me! _I tried to do just what your friend here told me to do, and the insane animal _still _tried to run me over. What the fuck was I supposed to do?! Just stand there and let him stomp me into the ground like a horse fly?!"

She slapped him hard across the face, silencing him and knocking some respect into his skull. "You keep yelling at me like that and I'll throw you into your cell to rot away for all time. Now calm the hell down."

He stood glaring at her, his face burning and stinging with shame and outrage. His hands clenched into tight, shaking fists at his sides, but he held his tongue, pursed his lips, and nodded curtly in response.

"Good. Now, I want you to try again, Jack, and this time, you're going to join up with that mustang. Be a man about it, too. I don't wanna see you pussy-footin' around. You got that?"

"Yes, ma'am," he growled through clenched teeth and snappily grabbed the lunge line and halter up off the ground beside his boots. He had dropped them in his haste to flee from the homicidal horse.

Bonnie gave him a small smile. "That's what I like to hear." She nodded to the loping stallion in the pen behind him and added, "Now get in there, and cowboy up, Marston."

If he were wearing his hat, he would've tugged it down with a haughty, determined look. With a deep inhale, he readied himself before opening the gate. He stepped back into the pen, feeling like an injured warrior going back into the fray. Despite his wounded pride, bruised body, and raging anger, he walked forward with his chin raised and his shoulders squared. He glanced back at Bonnie and his overseer, his expression plainly showing his discontentment. They waved him onward, their expressions hinting that he quit stalling and get a move-on.

"Go on, princess. Show him who the _real _boss is."

"And what if he tries to kill me again?" he scoffed back.

"Just man up and face him," Bonnie responded almost coldly, her face hardening in irritation. "Just be your usual, cocky, prick-headed self and you're sure to succeed."

Jack glared at her. "Thanks for the encouragement."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I do what I can, Jack." Beside her, her friend gave an amused chortle.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Jack turned his back to them and faced the stallion for the second time that day. Once again, he was staring into the eyes of the crazed stallion who had yet again stopped dead in his tracks to face him with the same opposing stance. If it weren't for the women probing him forward, he would've turned and exited the pen rather quickly. But not this time. This horse was his, and it was time to show him that, whether he wanted to or not.

"Alright, you crazy bastard," he challenged, lifting his chin up further, "let's dance." And he threw the end of the lunge line at the horse with a stronger level of confidence. This time, he felt in charge. This time would be different, would be a success rather than an utter failure.

The horse took his confidence, aggression, and bold stance with a twinge of uncertainty; he spooked at this along with the lashing rope and immediately took flight, galloping around the pen and watching Jack intently. Both males stared into each others eyes, waiting for the other to back down. Jack would not, nor would the stallion, and so the two were fixed upon each other as Jack forced the horse around, making him run that important quarter of a mile.

Jack kept his body square and facing the stallion at all times. No longer would he be pushed around by this animal, or by the terrible hand that life had dealt him. No longer would he be the push-over little boy who let everything walk over him as they pleased. He would stand his ground and let it be known that he was a man worth taking a glance over and be recognized for who he was. And he'd start with this stallion, this horse who thought he was a force to be reckoned with.

All around the pen, the ranch hands, Bonnie, and the woman watched in silent astonishment at the bold change in the angry young man. His body language told it all, showing to them and to the stallion the true man hidden deep within. Jack paid no attention to them; his focus was fully on the palomino. The horse would lunge at him every so often, flattening his ears and opening his mouth, but he would turn and forsake his threats when the human would return the body language, taking a dominative step forward and throwing the line straight at the horse's face. The horse reared several times in fright, taken aback by the young man's declarative leadership, and slowly, the stallion's rebelliousness waned and was replaced by fear. He was growing leaderless, and the only thing around to guide him was the man standing in the middle of the round pen.

And it was then, among the astounded, pious silence, that the stallion finally gave in. He turned his closest ear to Jack. At last, his proud head lowered, and he licked his lips and chewed. Jack had earned his respect, and now he sought the fellowship of the human.

Jack gave him just that; he turned abruptly away, his gaze kept to the ground and the lunge line becoming lifeless and dangling loosely from his hand at his side. He heard the horse stop his flight and turn to him. The hesitant, timid hoof falls becoming louder became a sweet medley to Jack's ears. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes when he felt the mustang's soft muzzle caress his hand and nicker questioningly, as if to say, "Are we friends? Will you be my leader now?"

Turning slowly around, his heart becoming enraptured by the bliss of the moment, Jack faced the horse and petted his forelock and muzzle in a circular motions, just as his overseer had done with the filly. He smiled joyously, not believing his success. The horse stood before him quietly, absolutely still before his new leader.

Applause erupted all around him and the stallion. Jack's heart swelled with pride, and he looked around at the men who cheered and gave him accepting nods. It wasn't just his join-up with the stallion, it was the join-up of the people who watched him work and struggle for the past two and a half weeks. Smiling, his eyes fell on Bonnie and her friend. The women nodded slowly, bowing their heads in respect to him. He shared a long stare with his overseer, and it thrilled him to see her eyes sparkle with pride. For the first time, she looked at him as she would a ranch hand, a man worthy of her respect. To him, it was the most accomplished point of his life, and his soul soared in the moment.

Turning, he walked away from the horse, following the well-beaten path the animal had trodden. He felt almost giddy when he heard and felt the palomino's hoof falls right behind his heels. The horse stopped when he stopped before Bonnie and his supervisor.

He motioned to the horse with a nod and asked, "Well? What do you think?"

His supervisor nodded again. Very good, Jack. Well done."

Bonnie grinned. "Your father would have been proud of you, Jack."

Jack smiled at them and said, "Thank you." And he meant it for the first time.

* * *

The smoke coiled upwards, encasing his head in nicotine heaven. Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd had a cigarette, and now as he smoked alongside his overseer on the front porch of Bonnie's ranch house, it was a glorious vice he enjoyed at the end of the day. He stood leaning against the railing, his back resting against one of the posts, and the cigarette resting in his mouth between his pursed lips. He held the cigarette between his index finger and thumb and took a long drag, savoring the taste and enjoying the tingling high he felt in his brain and on his tongue. He let the smoke blow out of his lips with a pleased sigh.

"How's that tastin' for ya, Jack?" the woman asked, a smile in her voice.

He looked down at her with a grateful smile. "It's tastin' _damn _good, miss. Thank you."

"Good." She sat in the rocking chair, her boots propped up on the railing beside him. Her had rested beside her chair leg; her long hair flowed freely across her chest and down her shoulders, covering her arms like a fur coat. A thick cigar rested in her left hand; the end glowed and spat tendrils of smoke as she wrapped her full lips around it and took several slow puffs. She let the smoke roil lazily out of her mouth afterwards, allowing the formless hand to caress her face before dissipating into nothing above her head.

Jack watched her, fascinated. It was like a guilty pleasure, a savory vice he couldn't help but enjoy. His mouth dropped open as he gawked at her. Only when she glanced up at him when she felt his gaze did he abruptly turn and stare out at the plains, feigning an intent, insightful look to make it seem like he was lost in thought. Busying himself, he took another drag and blew the smoke out in a rapid exhale.

Unexpectedly, the woman sighed as she flicked the stem of ash from the tip of her cigar.

Jack looked down at her, an eyebrow cocked. "You doin' all right?"

She looked up at him as she took a puff. She blew out the smoke as she asked, "What?"

"Is _Your Royal Highness _tired after a day of actual hard work?" He smiled slyly through the cigarette in his mouth. "Ya feelin' a little outta shape, lady?"

She snorted and took the cigar out of her mouth. "Well, seeing as I have to show you how everything's done, I suppose I am. You ignorant little bastard, you…" She shook her head. "Hell, this is a sort of a nice reprieve, a _vacation_, if you will, for me. Still, I'd rather be working alongside the ranch hands and bringing in bounties than holding your hand and guiding you through every little chore. I'm tired of babysitting." She took a reflective puff and looked at him with a sassy flash of her eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it, lady. You're enjoying every damn minute of your vacation."

She shrugged. "Perhaps, but I still have to show you how to do your job."

He glared at her as he inhaled deeply on the cigarette. He blew the smoke out of his nose. "Hey, I was able to do what you asked. Sundance and I are joined up, just like you wanted. I'd say I did a good job."

She laughed. "If you mean by almost getting killed in the process, then yeah, I'd say you've done a good job."

"Fuck off, woman," he snapped back, although he thoroughly enjoyed their ridiculously rude conversation. "For your information, I happened to hold my own against that crazy horse. Sure, it took a couple of tries, but I did what you told me to do." He put his cigarette back into his mouth, inhaled deeply, and let the smoke slip past his lips and tongue as he added, "And I think I did quite well for a first-timer."

She rolled her eyes. "_All _men think they're great their first time," she chuckled darkly, her eyes ablaze with humor.

He stared down at her, eyes widening at her sexual pun. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," she murmured through the cigar as she put it back into her mouth. She took three strong puffs before letting the smoke coil about her face and slither up into the air.

Jack watched her, his eyes locked onto her mercilessly. Her pun stunned him; he never would have guessed she'd joke about such un-ladylike things. _But then again, she's FAR from being a lady_, he thought. _And _she _thinks I'M a pervert_. He shook his head, confused but amused in a lascivious way. He studied the way her lips held the cigar, the way her fingers loosely, casually held it, the almost sensual way she closed her eyes as she sucked on the thick, brown stump of tobacco at its finest. She was halfway done with it, but to his pleasure, she'd be enjoying it for quite some time before she'd escort him to his cell for the night. And that was quite all right with him: he loved to watch the slow, meditative method of smoking. To see someone of the opposite sex smoke in such a reflective, relaxed way was both arousing and fascinating to him. She seemed to do it so much better than he did.

"Where'd you learn to smoke cigars?" he couldn't help asking, struck suddenly with curiosity in the moment.

She glanced at him, her lips wrapped around the cigar. "My pa," she said around it before taking a long, deep puff, her cheeks sucking into her face.

He blinked. "What?"

She nodded stiffly and blew the smoke out forcefully…angrily. "Why do you ask?"

"I…It's just that…I've never seen a woman smoke a cigar before. So…did he teach you a lot of other manly things?"

She pretended not to hear him as she smoked.

"Miss?" He took a step closer and looked her over intently.

She threw him a warning glare, making him take a step back with his hands raised non-threateningly.

"Okay, sorry. I was just askin' a question is all."

"Where'd _you _learn to smoke cigarettes?" she countered, sounding standoffish.

"My pa used to smoke," he explained, cocking an eyebrow at her sudden hostility. He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled quickly. He blew the smoke out and explained, "But I don't smoke as much as he did. Hell, he did it on a regular basis, as far as I could tell. I smoke every once in a while."

She studied the cigar in her hand, balancing it between her index and middle fingers, her thumb bracing the side of it. "I see," she said before taking another puff.

"By the way, thanks for this," Jack murmured, holding up the cigarette. He flicked the collecting stump of ash from the tip over the side of the railing. He watched it fall heavily to the dirt, disintegrating into a small grey pile. "It's been quite a long while since I've had one."

She inclined her head, not looking at him as she replied, "No problem."

He glanced down at her. "Why _did _you give me this, anyway?"

"The better you behave, the more rewards you receive, Marston," she explained through the cigar.

He scoffed. "A reward system, huh? What am I, a dog?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

He rolled his eyes.

"Your next reward will be the finest whiskey you've ever tasted in your life. It'll go down smoother than a cool drink of water from the waterfall in Tall Trees. I guarantee it, princess."

His eyebrows rose at this; an excited grin lit up his face. "Really now?"

She nodded. "But only if you keep up the hard work and do as I say. And if you keep showin' me, and other people, respect."

He shook his head, holding the cigarette between his lips. "That'll be easier said than done, miss," he chuckled.

She scoffed. Her lips curved at the corners into an amused smirk. "Oh, trust me, I know. You'll be like Sundance was today, just a-fightin' back the whole time until I put you in your place…again and again and again."

"That's right, ma'am!" he proclaimed, beaming brightly down at her as he watched her smoke her thick cigar. Her long dark hair caught the light of the moon and stars beautifully, reflecting the creamy-white light in its silky, shining blanket. He stared on as she switched her cigar to the other hand. With her now free hand, she ran her fingers through her hair before tucking her hand underneath it and drawing it to the right side of her body. Her hair fell sensually to the side on its own, cloaking her right shoulder and breast and exposing her graceful neck and collarbone to him. His eyes fixated on her, taking in as much detail of her as quickly as possible. She has the prettiest hair…and the prettiest neck, too, he thought, taking a prolonged inhale of his cigarette to chill his racing pulse. But his heart still pounded as he watched her take three quick puffs before one last, long drag. She closed her eyes, enjoying herself and the taste of her cigar, as she carefully, slowly let the smoke billow out past her partially-parted lips and up to frame her face in a way that made Jack almost squirm with excitement. He did, however, shift his weight from foot to foot, his boots thudding loudly and spurs tinkling. It was almost too much for him when she slowly turned her head and looked up at him. The smoke drifted away, revealing to Jack a perplexed, if not perturbed, look on her face as she narrowed her eyes.

"You get a good look yet, cowboy?" she jested darkly.

He immediately turned and faced forward, clenching at the rail with a tense, overly-rambunctious grip. He felt his face flush unbearably, and he cleared his throat. He could feel her patronizing gaze upon him, and that made him blush even worse.

"God, what _IS _it with men and staring?" she growled to herself as she looked away out at the plains of Hennigan's Stead. "It's like their eyes are magnetically drawn to a woman's body."

"Hey, I wasn't staring," he retorted, refusing to look over at her. "And men don't do that."

"Pssh! That's bullshit, princess! You were doin' it just now, so don't pull that shit with me." Interestingly, a hint of smile could barely be made out; Jack took it as a mistake to his ears and tried defending himself in his time of embarrassment.

"No, I wasn't. I was just…"

"Gawking," she finished, glaring up at him. "Now quit that shit before I give you a scar on your neck from my spurs. I've done it before to men who kept their eyes too long on me, and I sure as hell will do it again." To emphasize her point, she took her boots off the railing and shook her right one, making the spur jingle and shake menacingly. The moonlight glinted off one of the points, making a slight shiver run through Jack, and he swallowed thickly.

He scoffed, covering up his anxiety, and said, "Oh, you and your Mexican tattoo threats. They never get old to you, do they?"

"Hell no," she snickered back, propping her boots back up.

A pause enveloped between them.

"…I wasn't staring, Miss…uh…"

"Call me Maddie," she said around her cigar as she puffed.

He had to stare at her then, shocked to finally hear her reveal her name to him. "M-Maddie?"

She nodded. "Short for Madeline, but don't you _dare _call me by my full name. If you do, I won't hesitate to clip you with my spurs. Keep that in mind, princess."

He looked away, still in awe. _What a beautiful name_, he thought, his mind in a stupefied haze as he stared up at the sea of stars above them. _Goddamn it, how does she keep doing this?! She _never _stops bein' beautiful…_

"And yes, you were staring, Marston," she repeated softly, taking advantage of the pause in their conversation. A grin was once again evident in her voice.

He grew angry then, throwing up a hand in frustration as he faced her. "Well, so what if I was? I've never seen a woman smoke a cigar. _That's it!" _Fed up with her, he sucked angrily on his cigarette, feeling the soothing rush of tobacco enter him and calm his riled-up nerves.

Despite this, he frowned as he looked back down at her. Once again, he was staring. Once again, he was entranced as she sat smoking and staring off into the dark abyss of night across the plains. He sighed.

_Damn it, Eli…_


	5. Part 5: Horse Thief

**Oh, my God...So I apologize for the VERY late update! School has been kicking my ass this past two weeks! It's been a hell of a struggle trying to find the time to squeeze in writing, but I've been cranking through. Thank you to all my followers for your patience! Not only was I juggling work and school, I was trying to figure out where I wanted this fan fic to go. So after a brief battle with writer's block, I sat down and started writing out an outline for To Tame the Wild. I have a MUCH clearer view on how/where the story will go. So you guys won't have to worry about me not finishing this fan fic or pausing to fight writer's block while I try to crank out another chapter/part. So after much deliberation, here's Part 5. Enjoy!**

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**Part 5:**

**Horse Thief**

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Jack fell hard to the ground in a heap of clothes and dirt. It was only two weeks ago that he had started to tame the palomino stallion, and although he had finally gotten the saddle and bridle onto the mustang, he was finding it hard to stay in the saddle. Once again, he gathered himself up off the ground and dusted himself off, spitting out chunks of churned-up earth.

"C'mon, princess! Ya almost had it!" Maddie complained from atop her tamed tobiano filly. She had Féileacán accepting the bit by the fifth day, and the rest of the tack by the seventh. By the eighth, she was riding the filly with confidence. Gesturing at him wildly, she guffawed and added, "You were so close! What happened, boy?"

Grunting, limping slightly from the fall, he went up to her. "It's not my fault Sundance isn't taking too well to havin' me on his back. He's a spirited bastard."

She rolled her eyes. Beneath her, Féileacán blew loudly and pawed at the ground, looking rather bored. Maddie patted her neck and ran her fingers through her black and while mane. "He's just scared is all. You gotta go at the speed of the horse, Jack. How many times do I gotta tell you?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get off my back, lady."

She guffawed. "I wouldn't want to be on yours, scumbag."

He shot her an annoyed frown. "Don't play with me, Maddie. I'm not in the mood and today just isn't a good day for your little antics."

"I'll say. You've been bucked off at least seven times, and it's not even ten o'clock yet." She shook her head, disappointed in him but enjoying poking fun at him. " Féileacán didn't even buck me off once."

"That's because you picked an easy one out of the herd!" he shouted back, still favoring his left leg as he turned and hobbled over to Sundance, who was trotting about on the other side of the corral. The palomino's ears were pinned back flat against his head, and he snorted and threw up his head as the young man approached. "Oh, stop that shit, you big bastard," he griped as he grabbed the reins that flopped about in the air. He criss-crossed the reins atop the horse's withers and sighed. "Now you stop bein' a dip-shit and let me get on without a fuss, alright?"

"Yeah, that's nice," Maddie grumbled sarcastically. "Sweet-talk him, Jack. _That'll_ help."

"Would you stop bitchin' already?" he threw back over his shoulder as he jammed his left boot into the stirrup and grabbed the saddle horn and cantle.

"Only if you cowboy up and ride that horse like a real man, Marston."

A frustrated growl escaped him as he mounted up for the eighth time that day. Steadily, Sundance had gotten used to him getting up into the saddle, but the second he'd nudge his sides with his spurs, the horse would buck wildly. Jack hesitated to do so; he knew his spurs was the problem. He'd tried clicking his tongue, even making kissing noises, to get the horse walking forward, but to no avail. The horse was responsive only to touch, perhaps a bit too much. Even the slightest touch of his spurs would send the horse launching up into the air. Readying himself for the rodeo that was sure to come, Jack nudged the mustang's sides with his heels. His spurs jingled slightly as they poked into the horse's tough hide.

Sure enough, the palomino responded with angry bucking. A horrible grunting, growling sound came from the horse as he bucked and crow-hopped all about the corral. Jack did his best to move along with the horse's body, leaning far back into the saddle every time the horse's front hooves would land, and then leaning forward when he'd launch himself upward again. He began bucking straightforward, hardly changing direction, but he bucked high and strong, and the power of the horse's launch was quickly tiring Jack out. He was already beat up and bruised from the previous throws, and his strength and determination was beginning to wane.

"That's it, Jack! Keep on him! Move with him. Feel his body as he moves! You've almost got him tired out!"

Her encouragements helped him despite her annoying backtalk from most of the morning. As was custom for them, they'd find new ways to insult and annoy each other, and the challenge of seeing who's patience would break first was the highlight of their work days. But on this day, he had begun to use it as an advantage; his frustration and anger would be taken out on the rodeo that Sundance was putting him through. So he rode the bucking bronco with all the gusto and skill he could muster, and after several minutes, the horse had begun to finally tire himself out.

At long last, the horse came to a stand-still. Both horse and rider were huffing and puffing, their bodies shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion. Sweat glistened both males' bodies. After such a hard battle, the two were at peace with each other. Patting his lathered neck, Jack praised the horse and cooed reassurances to him.

"That a boy. See? That wasn't so bad, now, wasn't it? Yeah…"

Maddie rode up to the males with a proud smile. She stopped Féileacán before Sundance. Affectionately, the tobiano nickered reassuringly to the palomino, her ears pricked forward and her muzzle nudging the other horses' gingerly. The equines exchanged whickers and ear flicks, engaging in their own conversation as their riders did the same.

"See, Jack? You finally decide to cowboy up, and look what happened? You got that horse to take your weight. That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

He stared at her with wide-eyed disbelief. In between pants, he said, "Are you kiddin' me? I'm sore as hell! And I'm pretty sure he is, to. He's put me through a lot of shit today that I would've rather not have wanted to go through."

"Oh, bitch and moan, bitch and moan, Marston! You're just not used to real work is all."

"DON'T lecture me about "real work", woman." He paused to sigh heavily and catch his breath before he ranted on, "While you've been sittin' there on your so-called high horse, even though she's the puniest fuckin' thing I've ever seen in my life, I've been gettin' jostled about on top of this big stud like a sparrow in a thunderstorm! He's no Sunday joyride, lemme tell ya! Hell, I bet you'd get thrown off not even eight seconds into it, with how tiny you are and how strong he is."

"If you would've been thrown off again, I might've…if only to prove my point of you not bein' used to real work," she shot back with a grin. "And for your information, you little fairy, I would've ridden him hard enough and long enough to the point where he'd be too exhausted to stand up. You think _this _horse was a tough one? You should've been there when I was taming Gypsy! Talk about a spirited animal! She threw me off I don't know how many times, but I still kept coming back for more. Pa and I had never seen a more powerful beast than her out in the wild."

"You're so full of it, Maddie. You're just tryin' to play up your story to prove a point. I can see right through your bullshit."

Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits of determination and anger. "If I weren't as loving toward horses, I'd order you to get off Sundance so I could show you how it's done. But since I'm not that mean, I'll just leave you to take the benefit of the doubt and believe me. Some day soon, Marston, I'll prove you wrong on this subject, like I've proved so many other men wrong countless times."

"Sure thing, Miss Maddie," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "But until such days comes, I'll be doubting you every step of the way, just as I always have been."

"Oh, please. I've seen you gawk at me many times over in wonder, usually when I was showing you how to tame this stallion on Féileacán. And not just when we're at work…"

He looked down at the saddle horn and busied himself by adjusting his seat in the saddle. Sundance flicked his ears back flat against his golden head in response to this, and Jack patted him reassuringly on the neck. "Easy, boy. Don't go all crazy on me again."

"I think he's done fighting for the day, Jack. He looks pretty tired. Now walk him around the corral. Work him through neck-reining like I showed you, and get him to trot and lope, too. We want to work him when he's tired, when he's not as feisty and more compliant."

He slumped in the saddle and sighed heavily. "I'm exhausted, lady."

"Tough shit, Marston. Work your horse. It's now or never."

With a tired grumble, Jack reined the mustang around and nudged him forward, giving the horse the command, "Walk." With a slight crow-hop at the touch of the spurs, Sundance obeyed and walked tiredly around the corral, carrying his head low in the quintessential Western fashion, just as Jack and Maddie wanted him to. After a minute or so, Jack urged him to a trot, then to a lope, and eventually to a gallop around the pen. Maddie sat atop the tobiano in the middle of the pen, watching him intently and commenting occasionally on his technique.

"Keep your back straight, Jack, and your heels down. Relax, for Christ's sake!"

"I know how to ride, damn it! Stop lecturing me!"

"You're stiffer than a board in the saddle, boy, and it's making Sundance irritable," she argued, motioning to the horse with a hand. "Just look at his body language: his ears are back and he's givin' you the snake-eye. If your goal is to get close with the horse and understand him, you gotta feel his gait and move along with him. It's smoother for both of you, so concentrate on that horse."

Grumbling and too tired to argue, he did as he was told. Her words held true; he was able to find the rhythm that Sundance galloped at, and once he felt himself slip into it, the ride was unbelievably smooth. The transition between gaits became a natural flow as he slowed him down back to a walk and eventually stopped him before Maddie and Féileacán. Both he and Sundance panted, but the bond was apparent to one another as they stood before the females sweating and tired.

"Well? You happy yet?" Jack demanded snappily. Beneath him, Sundance blew loudly and shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, his knees and pasterns creaking.

"Don't use that tone with me, you little bastard," Maddie warned, giving him a warning scowl. "And no, you're still gonna work with him. Only until you two get comfortable with each other will I tell you to stop." She ushered him onward with a wave of her hand. "Now go on."

He gave a despairing groan and tilted his head back. "Oh, for the love of God! Are you _trying _to kill me and Sundance?"

"Stop being a woman and do as you're told, princess."

"Coming from a woman herself, that's not much of a threat," he shot back with a sardonic chuckle.

"That may be true, but I'm more of a woman than you can even dream to handle. I'm manlier than you, too."

He scoffed and walked Sundance back to the edge of the corral, shouting back over his shoulder, "I highly doubt that. If that were true, you'd have a thicker mustache than me."

"You call _that _a mustache?" she demanded with a hearty chortle. "It's more like a caterpillar!"

His pride stung, he glared maliciously at her as Sundance walked around the pen, edging closer to her as they rounded the pen. "Hey, at least I'm man enough to grow facial hair."

"More like peach fuzz…or the hair on a horse's ass."

"Excuse me?" Jack demanded, yanking back on the reins and jerking Sundance to a mouth-jarring stop. The horse flicked his ears back, tossed his head, and opened his mouth wide, agitated.

A sly half-grin graced her full lips as she inclined her head and met eyes with him. "You heard me. And with that little bush you call a goatee, I'd say you've barely peaked puberty."

"Ya know, I've just about had enough of your shit for one day," he grumbled as he nudged Sundance on. The horse responded with a swish of his tail and another toss of his head.

Maddie noticed this with a frown. "Give that horse his head. And quit jarring the bit in his mouth. You can be a real bastard to that beast, ya know that, Jack?"

"Oh, shut up. I'm handlin' him just fine, as far as I can tell."

"And as far as _I _can tell, you're full of shit and you need to listen to what I say. Give that horse the respect he deserves, or _I'LL _kick your ass _for _him."

"I'd like to see you try," he jested, giving her a cocky grin and raising his chin in haughty defiance. He urged the horse into a trot.

"Get off that horse and I'll show you how easy it is to drop your ass to the ground with one punch."

"Oh, good luck with that. With how tiny you are, I'll be a gentleman and let you get in a free punch, just to shake things up." To test her, he stopped Sundance beside Féileacán and dismounted.

"What are you doing?"

He walked around his palomino and came to stand beside the tobiano. Motioning for her to come down, he taunted, "You say you can beat me in a fight, so come prove it."

She was momentarily taken aback by his boldness; however, she quickly masked her surprise and gave an unimpressed nod. She dismounted gracefully and said, "Alright, Marston. You're on."

He scoffed with disbelief; his eyebrows rose as she walked around the horses and stood before him, her hands coming to rest on her hips in a proud way. "You're actually following through with this? Wow! I would've thought you'd be too much of a yellow-belly to face me."

She tugged her hat down tightly onto her head before spitting at his boots. "I've got more balls than most men have in their pants, and if they think they can talk up some bold words to back their packages up, then let 'em try. But the majority of the time, men try to play themselves up. It's all for show for most of 'em, and when things get physical, most tuck their tails between their legs and turn and run." She nodded to him and flashed her eyebrows. "With you, I figured you'd be just the same."

His eyebrows narrowed dangerously. "That's where you're wrong, Maddie."

She spread out her arms before her, calling his bluff and further annoying him. "Then come prove it to me, or are you too much of a chicken-shit?"

He threw back his head and guffawed. "Well, isn't this just somethin'! A little girl who thinks she can beat up a man! What a load of—"

He was tackled to the ground before he could finish his sentence. Before he knew it, she had pinned him down with both hands grasping his wrists in a tight, vice-like grip and one knee pressing down hard on his chest. The wind had been painfully knocked out of him, and as he lay there struggling to breathe, he stared up into her savvy brown eyes in shock.

"Ya see, Jack?" she concluded smugly. "You're just another man who's all talk and no show. Whaddaya know…"

Her face was an inch away from his, and even though his anger had begun to boil over, his heart still pounded in his chest at the close proximity of her. The fact that she was on top of him didn't help, either. Nevertheless, he glared at her with the most sadistic look he could conjure.

"Get the fuck off me," he growled.

She opened her mouth to shoot back a smothering jest, but she stopped when she was interrupted brusquely.

"If you two are quite done screwing around, I'd like to talk to you, if it's not too much trouble," came a hard, feminine voice from outside the corral. "God forbid you two ever get any work done around here without trying to out-best each other in some foolish game."

Jack and Maddie looked over and blushed when they caught Bonnie glaring at them from behind the corral gate, right beside the stable. She leaned against the building with an unimpressed frown and her arms crossly curtly across her chest, her right leg crossed over her left. She looked like an irritated, matriarch mare giving her foals an admonishing look. Maddie let up on her grip, giving Jack the opportunity to free himself and push her roughly up off of him. They stood in unison and brushed themselves off, trying to busy themselves as they worked through their embarrassment.

"I tell you two to go work with these mustangs, and here I find you laying on the ground and staring at each other like a buncha love-struck rattlesnakes sunning themselves in the desert." Bonnie shook her head and entered the corral, slamming the gate behind her rather roughly.

Maddie grew rigid with outrage and stated snappily, "Don't pull that bullshit on me, Bonnie. I was just puttin' this bastard back in his place. He thought he could best me in a fight, so I proved him wrong. That's all there was to it."

She walked up to them and rested her weight on one leg, her hips jutting out to the side in a saucy way. She cocked a distrusting eyebrow. "Not from where I was standin', Madeline." She looked from Jack to Maddie and back again. "If I see you two horsin' around one more time, I'll throw saddles on both of you and work you like the animals you are. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused, casting quick criticizing glares at each other.

"Good. Now, Maddie, I need you to go to Armadillo today, preferably before noon, and go get supplies. We're runnin' low on quite a lot of things." She dug into her breast pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. She handed it to Maddie and explained, "Everything we need is on that list."

Maddie accepted the list and opened it, skimming down the page and nodding. "Yes, Miss MacFarlane. I can do this for you."

"You are _such _a kiss-ass," Jack grumbled, jamming his shoulder into hers and rolling his eyes.

Maddie shot him a warning look, her mouth dropping open in amazed outrage. "Shut your yippus, you piece of trash! I oughtta wring your filthy little neck!"

"Enough, you two!" Bonnie shouted. She shook her head and sighed. "You sound like bickering siblings!"

The youngsters fell silent before her, but not before glowering hatefully at each other like a cat and a dog. Turning her attention back to her boss, Maddie asked, "So are you goin' along with me, or what's the plan here?"

"No, you go on ahead. Take Eli or Bill or somebody with you, though. I know you can handle a gun, Maddie, but I would just feel safer if you took someone else along with to help out in case the wagon gets attacked."

To prove a point, the young woman withdrew her pistol in a flash and drew back the slide, loading her weapon. "Not if I can help it. Bring on the nastiest sons-a-bitches there are. I'll take 'em all on."

Jack rolled his eyes, tilting back his head with a groan. "Oh, please. I can see you being a pansy and cowering in the wagon at the first sign of danger."

Bonnie silenced them both with a scowl before looking back at Maddie and continuing their conversation. "Be back before nightfall, and stay outta trouble, ya hear? I know you're quite the gunslinger, but please, for the love of God, don't go shootin' around like Marston here. You don't wanna end up gettin' thrown in jail like he was."

The women shared amused smirks. Maddie nodded and said, "Sure thing, miss." She grew concerned when she motioned to Jack with a jam of her thumb and added, "But what about him? Who's gonna watch over this slimy, slippery bastard while I'm gone?"

A dark twinkle entered Bonnie's blue eyes as she smiled and said, "Leave that to me."

"Say no more, Miss MacFarlane." She walked around her and, pausing in her stroll towards the barn, patted her on the shoulder and added, "Just do me a favor and give him hell while I'm gone. You'd better not play the loving aunt and ease up on him while I'm out runnin' some little errand for you."

Bonnie gave her a reassuring smile. "Oh, don't you worry 'bout that, Maddie. I'll still keep him just as miserable while you're away. He's _never _gonna get a break from his harsh reality." She glanced over at Jack with a wink; Jack sighed and visibly sagged.

Maddie turned and walked backwards, tipping her hat to her friend and boss. "I would've hoped for nothing less, Bonnie. See ya tonight!" With nothing more to say, she turned and jogged out of the corral, not even bothering to open the gate but instead climbing skillfully up and over the fence before she continued over to the barn.

Slowly, Bonnie turned back to Jack and crossed her arms, looking at him expectantly. "Well? What're you doin' standin' there starin' after her? Get back on that horse and work with him, boy." She grabbed Féileacán's reins and patted the filly's neck.

With a grumble, he acquiesced and mounted back up. A tired sigh escaped from the horse; Jack nodded in empathy and yawned in response to his mount's exhaustion. He nudged the horse's sides; the horse complied and strode forward at a slow walk.

"Well?" she pressed. "Let me see you work that horse, Jack."

Fed up with the day's tribulations and too exhausted to protest, he spurred the horse into a lope, skipping the smooth transitions of gaits that he had previously experienced with his horse. The palomino jerked forward into a stuttering lope, his ears laid back flat and his tail swishing in response to his spurs.

"Don't jab him, Jack! It's like you _want _to draw blood with them things!"

"_I barely touched him, Bonnie!" _he argued back as he loped the horse around the pen. "You're just tryin' to look for something to criticize me over."

"Well, how can I not? You make it so easy, Marston."

He didn't care to grace her retort with an answer. Instead, he merely harrumphed an rolled his eyes. Fed up with her, he redirected his focus to the horse that moved smoothly beneath him. For several minutes, he stared down at the cream-colored, flowing mane and shimmering, muscular pearl neck.

"Ya gonna run him to death, boy?"

Angrily, Jack pulled back on the reins, making Sundance toss his head and fight with the bit in his mouth. He chomped down on the metal between his teeth, sticking his tongue out occasionally in discomfort. He tossed his head as he came to a stop and blew loudly, his ears laid back flat against his proud, massive head.

Bonnie shook her head and frowned. "He doesn't take too well to the bit, or to your spurs. Poor thing."

Patting the horse on the neck, Jack responded harshly, "Well, it's not my fault he's such a touchy horse. Besides, I've been working with him for two weeks straight, and he finally let me on his back today. Sure, he bucked me off seven times, but he's finally letting me ride him. He's been fighting with me since day one."

"That's because you're forcin' him into somethin' he's not comfortable with. In order to be a good horseman, you must be a good _listener_, and you MUST go at the pace the horse is comfortable with. Rushing things only spells disaster for both you and Sundance. So keep that in mind, and be careful. He almost killed you a week ago, and he can still certainly do that any time he wants."

"Your advice is so thoughtful," he noted sarcastically. He gave a surprised sound when Sundance half-reared and tossed his head, side-stepping and swishing his tail about. "Hey, hey, hey!" He held the horse at bay, keeping the reins taut. He patted and stroked the horse's neck and mane, soothing the mustang as best as he could. "Easy, boy. Whoa."

"Just keep talking to him, Jack," Bonnie commented. "He'll get used to it all with your help."

"I know, I know," he grumbled back, leaning forward in the saddle and petting the horse. "I know what I'm doin' here, Bonnie. I can ride."

"Yeah, you know how to ride in an authoritative, dominative way, boy. You _do not _know how to ride WITH a horse. The bond between horse and rider should be a mutual partnership, _**not **_slave and master. Think about that."

Jack threw her a nasty look. "You know, you should practice what you preach, miss," he remarked coldly as he sat up straight in the saddle and glared down at her. "I've been here at your ranch for about a month, and I've been bustin' my ass and bein' nothing but a slave to you. So think about _that!"_

"And it's for a good reason, boy," she shot back, folding her arms tightly. "Your behavior of late has to be rectified."

"'Rectified'?" He shook his head. "Such smart words come from your mouth. The way you're talking, I'd take you for a lawyer or a judge of some sort."

She scoffed and looked to the side. "Me? A judge? Yeah, right, Mister Marston."

"Well, the way you act, all high and mighty, I'd take you for the wife of something of that sort, like a government agent or sheriff." He scoffed. "You and Maddie are so damn alike, you might as well be twins."

She shrugged nonchalantly, a proud grin forming on her thin lips. "We're hard-working women. In this so-called "man's world", we women have to work twice as hard to measure up to you men. So we do, and we do it well, if I do say so myself. And we share the same morals and values…well, most of the time."

"Like what?" he asked, adjusting himself in the saddle. "Be more manly than a man himself? Maddie sure as hell enjoys achieving that goal."

She glared up at him. "No. And don't go insulting her. I watched firsthand how she showed you up, so I'd watch that uncivil tongue of yours if I was you."

"Well, what do you two _not _have in common? You're practically the same in my eyes, except she's more…violent."

"Well, for one, she and I differ on our views of marriage. She thinks it's a waste of time, a way to keep her and every other woman in check. I don't think that; I'm married, after all."

His interested perked. Sitting up in the saddle, he asked curiously, "Yeah, where is Nathaniel? I never see him anymore. How's he doin'?"

A pang of disappointment and hurt settled into her gaze as she looked down at Sundance's grey hooves. "He's doin' good, I suppose. He's much too busy keeping up the ranch, well, mostly keeping up with paperwork and finances. He's usually nose-deep in bookkeeping and goes to Blackwater a lot dealing with other sort of documents that I couldn't quite put my finger in edge-wise. I'm more of a physical-labor gal; he's a business-man, well, he's become that sort lately." She shook her head, saddened. Her eyes gleamed over as she became lost in her memories. "He used to be such an outdoorsman. After I took over the ranch, he's been absorbed in books and words and paper. I hardly recognize him nowadays."

Jack hesitated to voice his question. "Are you two happy?"

She sighed and hugged herself tightly, her gaze still locked on the ground. "Not really," she confessed. "I thought bein' married would bring me so much more…but…" She shook her head, leaving her sentence hanging despairingly in the air before her. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Maddie thinks I should divorce him. She tells me he's nothin' but a waste of my time, that I'd be better off without him."

He blinked, shocked. "But…you made a promise, Bonnie, a vow."

She looked up and locked gazes with him, her blue eyes piercing into his with painful sincerity. "Sometimes that just isn't enough, Jack. If you ever get married, I hope you have a better marriage than I do. Nathaniel treats me rather poorly."

Jack laughed bitterly. "I won't ever get married." He scoffed and hurriedly dismounted Sundance, his knees popping and creaking as his boots met the ground. He walked around the palomino and came to stand beside her, keeping his eyes on the horse and refusing to look at her out of embarrassment of his vulnerability.

"Why not, Jack?" she pondered softly, turning to face him.

He was momentarily speechless by her innocent inquiry; however, he gave her an skeptical look, more annoyed than disbelieving of her naivety, and he motioned to himself with a wave of his hand. "Just look at me. Who the hell wants someone like me? Plus, I don't think I deserve any sort of thing like that."

"You'd be surprised who love chooses to unite. Your parents were perfect examples of this."

He snapped his head up and glared at her, straight into her eyes. "That's a fucking lie! My father was a bastard outlaw and my mother was a…working gal! Their union was far from perfect, Bonnie! And look what has become of that union!" He jabbed himself hatefully in the chest with a thumb. "_Me! I'm _the son of two degenerates, and you know it. So don't try to play my parents' situation and marital status off as something perfect."

"But your parents loved each other…and you."

He scoffed and looked away to the stables, where the majority of horses had gathered and were either half-asleep and/or bored as they swatted at flies with their tails and stomped them off their legs. He didn't pay attention to the animals as his eyes narrowed in reflection. It was true, they had loved each other unconditionally, and his mother raised his as right as she could and with all the love in her heart. And his father always stayed faithful to his wife, even when Abigail had had her suspicions after meeting Bonnie. _But Pa never much showed me he loved me…except when he hugged me right before…_ He blinked and repressed the painful flow of memories on the day his father was killed. He gave a slight sigh and chewed on his lip, not quite sure of what to think of his father's love.

"Do you doubt they loved you?" Bonnie asked softly, almost too quiet for him to hear.

He looked back at her, noticing how intently she watched his face, and he shook his head and shrugged. "Hell, I don't know, Bonnie. There's no doubt in my mind that Ma loved me, but Pa…I always question it. But what he did for me and Ma was…" He left his sentence trailing with no resolution, seeing as he couldn't evoke the right words to express what he knew.

"True sacrifice. He _loved _you, Jack, and your ma. _Never ever doubt that."_

He nodded, not trusting his voice for fear of it breaking as he took in her golden words.

"So you'll never marry, huh?" she continued, a smirk lathering her voice. She was interested in the conversation, that was for sure.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, noticing her eager expression. He cast aside his surprise, though, when he shook his head and replied, "No one would take me for who I am, for what I've become. Like I said, I don't deserve it, with what all I've gone through and done ."

Bonnie patted his knee reassuringly. "Everyone needs someone, Jack, even you."

Uncomfortable with the conversation, Jack cleared his throat and asked, "So am I done with Sundance for the day?"

She nodded, looking horse and rider over. "I'd say so. You guys look pretty tired."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it, Miss MacFarlane," he chuckled back as he dismounted and led the palomino over to the stables. Bonnie followed as well with Féileacán. Without a word, the two unsaddled the horses and laid their tack on a sawhorse outside the stable. Jack took a while longer to unsaddle Sundance, as his body was screaming in pain with every forced movement of his muscles. The long process was worth it as he watched the horse trot away ten feet. He smirked when the horse laid down and began to roll around in the dirt, making content grunts and groans as he did so. When his coat was bathed in dirt and mud, the stallion stood back up and shook himself. He blew with satisfaction before yawning greatly.

It wasn't until after he tore his tired eyes away from the stallion that he noticed Bonnie was looking at him with a queer expression. Looking her over, he gave her a quizzical frown and asked, "What?"

She bit down on her lip, her eyes twinkling with humor at some unknown joke. She did her best not to burst out laughing.

Jack faced her fully and put his hands on his hips, annoyed. "What's so funny?"

"Eli told me about your guys' bet, Jack. He told me a couple days ago when he came up to me and asked for the dollar he won off you."

He felt his face flush unbearably, and he turned his gaze to the ground before his boots.

Bonnie gave a boisterous laugh and smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "Oh, look at you, blushin' redder than a sun-burnt tenderfoot on a cattle drive!"

"Shut up," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck with a sweaty, callused hand.

"You _are _interested in her, aren't you, Jack?" she assumed with giddy exuberance.

He snapped his head up and glared malevolently at her. "_FUCK NO! _I absolutely _hate _that woman!"

She chortled. "Oh, you are such a terrible liar, Mister Marston!"

"I ain't lyin', miss. Trust me, I DON'T like her at all. She's a bitch."

"And you're an ass, so it only fits."

"That's quite enough, Bonnie! I am NOT interested in her. _AT ALL."_

She waved a dismissive hand at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're just bein' childish now, Marston."

"And _you're _bein' foolish."

"Maybe so, but I'm not the one who's gettin' angry and defensive. The way you're actin', I'd take it you're fallin' head over heels for Madeline."

"Would you just shut the hell up already?"

She laughed softly and nodded, taking a step back from him and holding her hands up submissively. "Alright, Jack. Whatever you say, boy."

"Good," he said and sighed angrily. He looked away back at Sundance, who was standing where he had rolled with his head hung low and eyes half-closed. His ears drooped to the sides, and his tail barely swished to and fro at the flies. He felt bad for working the horse so hard, but he was glad to be done with it for the day. Inhaling deeply, he turned and headed for the gate, with Bonnie following closely. He held the gate open for her.

She weaved her way around the gate and stood before him, still giving him a knowing smirk. "So do you own Eli ten bucks yet?"

"GODDAMNI IT, BONNIE!" he roared, slamming the gate closed with excessive power and spooking nearby horses into flight across the corral. "I _DO NOT__-_"

His violent declaration was interrupted when a distraught cry sounded from around the corner, over by the general store. He and Bonnie turned and stared as a roguish-looking young man seized one of the ranch hands by his left leg and arm and threw him roughly off his red roan gelding. As the man tumbled to the hard ground before the hitching post, the outlaw hastily mounted up and gathered the reins in both hands. Turning the horse to the right, he spurred him out to Hennigan's Stead, out towards the plains and the dense woods. As the stolen horse bounded forward and galloped down the road out of the ranch, the tussled ranch hand scrambled to his feet, irately shouting obscenities and shaking his fist at the man who did him wrong. When he realized how quickly his horse was making distance from him and the ranch, he looked around and shouted, "Help! HELP!"

Jack and Bonnie shared a quick, concerned glance before dashing over to the distraught man. As she rushed up to him, and the man explained to her what had happened, Jack took a different route. To his surprise, he felt compelled to take action and responsibility for the man's misfortune. Before the man even finished his sentence, he was looking for the nearest horse, and he ran over to a dark-gray mare hitched in front of the doctor's shed. He unhitched the horse, jammed his left boot in the stirrup, and leaped up into the saddle. He whirled the horse around and spurred her harshly, making her grunt with surprise and pain before jolting forward with ears pinned back flat against her head.

He was galloping out of the ranch in the next instant, his surroundings becoming an incoherent blur of colors as the mare plowed forward with hell-bent speed. He leaned forward in the saddle and sunk into the seat, feeling a strange sense of duty and determination surge through him as he rode. As the horse jumped over the railroad tracks and headed out toward the plains, he heard a certain outraged woman scream after him.

"JACK MARSTON, GET BACK HERE!"

He was too far gone to shout back to her. He regretted not telling her his actions; no doubt she would think him a traitor and a thief as he rode out of the ranch on one of her horses. _But that can't be helped now_, he thought as he spurred the horse on, urging her to gallop faster down the road. He zoomed past fellow travelers, weaving his way through wagons and horses as he searched for the horse thief.

As he rode, he couldn't help but think twice about his actions. _Why am I doing this? It's not like I was ordered to go after this horse thief. Why AM I doing this? _His determination faltered slightly as he contemplated whether or not to slow the gray mare down and turn her back toward the ranch. He also thought whether or not to keep going and simply take refuge in some small settlement, like Thieves Landing or Plainview. He bit down on his lip, indecisive and feeling guilty. _If I ride on and don't go after him, Bonnie will hate me forever, and she'll probably send a search party after me, anyways. But if I can't find this horse thief, what then? Do I go back empty-handed? _He shook his head and exhaled through his nose. _Damn it all!_

His doubts were put to rest when he saw a faint cloud of dust appear further down the road, about a hundred yards. With an elated shout, he kicked the mare faster. Sure enough, as he drew nearer, he recognized the red roan and the horse thief.

It was only then that he realized he only had his lasso on his person. He hadn't seen his guns since the night of his incarceration; they were locked safely away somewhere in Bonnie's ranch house. _Shit_, he thought with a stab of fear and jolt of adrenaline. _Now what? I suppose I could lasso him…but the horse would get away. Damn it! It would be _so much easier _to just shoot the bastard and be done with it!_

In the next instant, a crazy idea burst into his brain. Smiling at his imprudence and recklessness, he spurred the gray mare up alongside the red roan and the thief. A moment passed between the two men as they looked over at each other and locked eyes. The horse thief's young face once held a successful, boasting smile; now, it melted into a disbelieving frown.

His mouth dropped open in shock when Jack smiled devilishly at him and, taking out his right boot from the stirrup, kicked him in the side as hard as he could. He had to grab the saddle horn and steady himself when his boot made contact and dislodged the young man from his saddle, sending him flying through the air before tumbling and rolling to a painful stop thirty yards back. Not wasting any chances, Jack reached over and grabbed the red roan's reins, sitting back up in the saddle and pulling back on the reins of his mount. Steadily, he slowed the two horses and reined them back around, heading back to the ranch.

As he rode up to the horse thief, he made eye contact with the young man. A thought occurred to him that he should bring back further evidence, just so Bonnie would believe him fully when he would return. He wrapped the red roan's reins around the saddle horn, put his horse's reins in his mouth, and retrieved his lasso strapped at his side. Unfurling it, he widened the loop and swung it up and around over his head, picking up speed in preparation for the throw.

The horse thief was painfully gathering himself up off the ground all the while. Jack could tell the fall had beaten and bruised him: a large gash was bleeding across his forehead, and he seemed disoriented. The young man looked up at the sound of approaching horses. At the sight of Jack whirling his lasso above him, he scrambled to get to his feet, but he faltered in his haste when pain flailed up in his side. He clutched at his ribs and gasped. Still, he reached for the revolver strapped to his side. He wasn't quick enough, though, to draw it, as Jack's lasso looped around his waist and caught him tightly in its grasp.

Jack stopped the horses before the young man and jerked back on the lasso, causing the young man to fall forward helplessly to the ground. He gathered the slack in his hands, making sure to keep the rope taut so the thief couldn't get to his feet. He quickly dismounted and approached the young man, who was laying on his stomach before him and grumbling incoherent curses. Without hesitation, Jack knelt down, pressed one knee into his back and pushing most of his weight on him, and tied his hands behind his back with a loop he created with the slack of the lasso.

Grunting at his weight and powerless position, the horse thief huffed, "Ya rotten fuck! Untie me!"

Jack shook his head and got up off him. "Ain't happenin', friend," he chuckled back. He glanced back at the horses to make sure they were still there. They stood panting and blowing several feet away from him, the whites of their eyes showing and their sides damp with sweat. Standing, he went to them and petted them soothingly, cooing, "Easy, you two. It's all right." He patted their sticky necks and stroked their foreheads, comforting them as best as he could.

"C'mon, mister! Untie me! I just needed a horse is all! Please, I'm beggin' ya!"

He turned back to the thief and hissed, "You'll get your just reward in a little bit. Until then, I'd lay there and shut the fuck up if I was you."

"If you were me and I was you, I'd kick the ever-livin' shit outta you, mister! You don't know what it's like!" The young man struggled against his restraints, wiggling and wriggling helplessly on the ground. He fought to crane his head to the side so as to look Jack in the eye as he pleaded, "Please, mister! Don't hand me over to the law! I'm desperate!"

"Oh, I can tell," he snickered back. "You're mighty desperate, now that you're all tied up."

"You don't understand! I'm broke and needed a horse! I got nothin'! I've never hurt anyone or gunned down anybody, mister! I'm just a poor, hurtin' kid!"

A pang of pity swelled in Jack's breast as he met eyes with the thief. He looked to be just a boy, no younger than himself, perhaps not even eighteen yet. His poor condition was proof of his words: he looked like he hadn't bathed or eaten in some time, and his dirty-blonde hair was matted and longer than Jack's. His clothes were torn, patched, and soiled. His child-like face caught Jack off-guard, and for a moment, he regretted apprehending the boy.

"You look like a hurtin' man, too, mister," the boy noted, trying to play on Jack's emotions. "Ya see? You and I ain't so different now, are we?"

He glared down at him, eyebrows narrowing disapprovingly and an opposing frown tugging at his lips. "Oh, trust me, we're _complete _opposites, you and I. I for one ain't tied up like a sought-after whore on the ground."

The thief grew angry and shouted, "Untie me, or I swear to God I'll kill ya! I'LL KILL YA!"

"That'll prove kinda tough for you if you're still tied up, boy."

The boy gave a frustrated roar and fought even harder against his tethers. After ten seconds, he gave up with a distressed, despairing cry and laid on the ground panting and whispering the nastiest obscenities ever heard from a boy his age.

Jack kicked him in the side and growled, "Watch your tongue, boy! That's enough of such talk." He couldn't help but smile at the power he had over the kid.

"FUCK YOU, ya cock-suckin', mother-fuckin', two-balled whore! Just you wait, ya son of a bitch! I'll get free, and then I'll beat the shit outta you! I'm gonna-"

He yelped and stopped abruptly when Jack kicked him harder, silencing him.

"I said shut-"

Jack cut himself off in mid-sentence when he heard the furious thunder of hoof falls coming up from behind him. Turning, he looked over his shoulder and felt his heart sink at the sight of Bonnie leading a group of four of trusty ranch hands, all armed and pointing their weapons at him. They came up swiftly to him, faster than he would've wanted them to, and pulled up their huffing horses fifteen feet away from him.

"JACK MARSTON, YOU BACKSTABBING BASTARD!" Bonnie shrieked as she dismounted and advanced toward him, a Henry repeater grasped tightly in both hands. She struck him hard across the face with the butt of her gun, making him drop to the ground with a loud cry of pain and shock. He caught himself with his hands and knees, though, and he looked up at her through his excruciation as she bellowed, "HOW DARE YOU STEAL ONE OF MY HORSES AND RIDE OFF AGAINST MY ORDERS!"

Slowly, Jack gathered himself up off the ground with considerable amount of effort. He groaned and held the side of his face with a hand; blood trickled down his fingers from the large gash he received above his left temple. Despite himself, he glared dangerously at her, his control slipping quickly out of his grasp as he gasped at the pain that wrapped around his head.

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF, BOY!" Bonnie demanded, hefting her gun for a second strike.

"_I JUST SAVED YOUR HORSE!_" he roared back, his voice booming across the plains. "You should be fucking THANKING ME!" Angrily, he wiped the blood off his hand and face with his sleeve, adding to the pallet of various colors his clothes had acquired throughout the morning. He didn't care.

"That's the biggest lie I've ever heard! You were trying to high-tail it outta here and make off with my horse!"

He gave her an annoyed, disbelieving glare. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, Bonnie? Why would I do that when I have nothin' to live off of, when I have no guns? You know better than to think that I'd do such a foolish thing like that!"

"Well, I didn't think you'd steal a horse and go gallopin' out towards the plains, but look where that got me!"

"_You know better!" _he hissed, striding up to her. He and the older woman stood glaring into each others eyes, not backing down from the fight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw one of the ranch hands lower his weapon. He and Bonnie looked over at the man when he spoke up in a deep voice.

"With all due respect, Miss MacFarlane, I think he's tellin' the truth."

"What?!" she demanded, facing him directly and glaring up at him.

"Come off it, Bonnie," the man continued, motioning to Jack with a declarative wave of his hand. "Why would Jack be standing here right now with your horses if he wasn't tellin' the truth?" He pointed down to the boy behind Jack and added, "And why else would he be standin' here if he hadn't just tied up that horse thief?"

Her gaze followed the man's gesture. Surprise and embarrassment consumed her face as she looked down on the horse thief for the first time; she hadn't seen the boy up until this point, as Jack was inadvertently obscuring him from her view. She couldn't find her voice for the longest time as she looked from Jack to the thief and back again with open-mouthed shock, not believing his good deed.

Jack raised his chin with cocky resolution. "See? I'm not about to take off, Bonnie. You know better than that, so stop assuming I'm a piece of trash."

She glared at him, her jaw setting and her grip on her firearm tightening. "Shut your disrespectful mouth, Marston. I didn't assume anything."

He frowned curtly and inclined his head slightly as he gave her an unimpressed look. "Yes, you did, Bonnie."

The ranch hands' eyes widened in shock at his brave back-talk. Bonnie stood before him, rigid, frozen in place by her anger, humility, and shock. She remained silent for the longest moment before she slung her repeater over her back with a heavy sigh. At last, she spoke, "Jack, throw that thief up behind your saddle. Bill, you take the red roan and pony him back to the ranch. Let's mount up and finish this back at the ranch."

* * *

"So what happened to your pretty little face, there, princess?"

Jack sighed; he knew eventually she'd see the gash on his temple and would question him about it. He pretended he didn't hear her as he walked up to the supply wagon and hefted two sacks of grain, slinging them both over each shoulder. He walked into the general store and handed the sacks to the store owner, not caring that Maddie was following him with her own arms full and looking at him with obvious interest.

"Well?"

"That's none of your damn business," he snapped back as he walked around her and the ranch hand who was helping them and went back out to continue unloading the wagon. Ever since she had gotten back from her trip to Armadillo, she kept looking at his face with concern, and it was only then that she asked him what transpired. Though the dusk was quickly settling into night, he could plainly see the interest she held in her face.

She grabbed his arm, stopping him from gathering up another sack from the back of the wagon. She locked gazes with him as she pointed out, "You've got a cut on your face. Either you did something stupid during the day or you pissed off Bonnie. So which is it?"

He cleared his throat, not wanting to respond as he shrugged off her hand and loaded up his arms again with the supplies. Again, he went into the general store, acting as if she wasn't there.

She followed him, carrying another load in her arms. "I'm serious, Jack. Answer me or I'll kick you in the ass. Hell, I might even use my spurs instead!"

He dropped the sacks heavily onto the counter and whirled around, facing her with a nasty scowl on his face. "Would you just stop already?! I've had it with you and Bonnie constantly bein' on my back all day, tellin' me this and that and leadin' me around like some dog on a short leash! I've HAD IT!"

She drew back, not expecting his hostility. "Jesus, boy, calm down! I was just askin' a question." She recovered from her shock then, putting on her tough-girl mask as she narrowed her eyebrows and demanded, "So what happened?"

He glared at her, his temper bubbling. "Bonnie hit me," he stated through clenched teeth. His hands flexed into shaking fists as his sides as he turned and walked back out the door.

She guffawed and followed, right at his heels. "I _KNEW _it!" She joined him at the back of the wagon and pressed, "So what happened? You talked back to her and she set you straight, didn't she? I bet that's what happened."

He glared at her in response, not wanting to put enough effort into answering her.

She seemed positively thrilled at her assumption, and at how annoyed she was making him. She smacked his arm with the back of her hand and said, "You probably got all high and mighty and tried tellin' her off, and then she doubled back on ya and whipped your ass into shape, didn't she?" She laughed, throwing back her head, before adding, "Damn, I wish I would've been here to see it. That would've been priceless to watch!"

"You're sadly mistaken," Jack retorted as he hopped up into the wagon to fetch the last three sacks that were further back. He angrily tossed a bag at his overseer's face, not caring whether or not he hit her with it, before grabbing the last two and jumping out of the wagon. As he hoisted up the bags on his shoulders, he explained, "I saved one of her horses from gettin' stolen, and she hit me with her gun."

"You're a liar, Marston. Your lame outlaw self wouldn't even think of doing such a great service, and that doesn't sound like something Bonnie would do." Scoffing, she fell into step behind him.

"Actually, it's true," said the ranch hand, speaking for the first time.

Jack and Maddie turned and faced him.

"You're kiddin' me, Joshua," she said. She elbowed Jack in the ribs rather roughly. "This idiot wouldn't know right from wrong if it came up and bit him in the ass."

"No, it's true," the young man continued. "Jack here went after a horse thief, took him down with nothing but his hands…well, his boot, actually…and tied up him with his lasso. Bonnie, me, and a couple of us boys went ridin' after him, but yeah, that's how it went down. She accused him of stealin' off on one of her horses with the intention of escape, but he stayed there beside the two horses and that tied-up thief. He wasn't a runaway, Miss Maddie. So after we got back here at the ranch, we threw the thief in jail. Jack and Bonnie had come to an agreement that he wasn't gonna get punished for what happened today. After all, he didn't do anything wrong. He did quite the opposite of that."

Her jaw dropped open; her eyes bulged. She looked Jack over in a new limelight, shaking her head. "That can't be true. He…You're a…."

"A bastard outlaw?" Jack finished, cocking an eyebrow at her and frowning. "You just can't get it outta your head that I'm nothin' but a nasty outlaw who's incapable of changing. Well, look what I did today. That should be proof enough that I'm doin' greater things than what you portray of me doin'." He motioned to the cut on his head. "You want further proof? Just look at this. Bonnie gave this to me when she thought the same thing, and right after I proved her wrong, she sure shut up fast. You women think I'm some kind of wild animal, unable to think logically. Well, I've got news for you: I'm better than that, and I'll prove it."

For a minute straight, Maddie stood staring at him with dumbfounded revelation. A change in the way she looked at him could be discerned; when at last she came away from her shock, she took a step back, looked up him and down, and put a hand on her hip. She shook her head, still not comprehending what all he said, but she said, "If what you say is true, then damn! I guess we'll just have to wait and see if your words hold true in the future. Hell, Marston, we may make an honest man outta you yet."


	6. Part 6: A Shot of Reality

**So very sorry for the long-over-due update, but at last, here it is! This part took me quite a while, as it originally involved doing some research, which, after doing said research, I decided to change some things and ultimately just stick with an easier route to the ending of this part. To all my followers and reviewers, THANK YOU! If it weren't for you guys, this story would not keep going. Seriously, you all deserve a cookie or two...or something. So without further ado, enjoy Part 6!**

* * *

**Part 6:**

**A Shot of Reality**

"Marston, would you quit yawning and wake up already? That's like the tenth-thousandth time you've done that and it's not even nine o'clock!"

From behind the viewing glass of his binoculars, Jack frowned and snapped tiredly back, "It's not my fault that bastard horse thief kept me up all night bitchin' and yellin' like some damn screech owl. I mean, who the hell puts someone _that fuckin' loud _right beside my cell and expects me to get some sleep?"

"Me, that's who," Maddie snapped back and flicked the end of Gypsy's reins at his arm.

"Ow!" he exclaimed as the leather slapped his bicep. He flinched in the saddle, causing the Dark Horse beneath him to pin back his ears and glance back at his rider in annoyance. His eyes narrowed in anger as he scowled at his companion by his side. "Damn it, Maddie! What the hell was that for?"

From atop her bored black mare, she grinned devilishly at him and gathered up the reins again. "I'm helping you wake up."

"With pain?"

"Yup," she giggled and flicked the reins at him again, this time smacking him harshly on the thigh.

"Stop that!"

"Is it waking you up?" she teased, a bright smile flashing across her beautiful face.

"It's _pissing me off _is what it's doing!"

"Good! Then my job here is done."

"Great! Then go back to the ranch and leave me be, ya rotten bitch," he growled, gesturing behind him with a jab of his thumb.

She smiled coyly at him, teeth flashing brilliantly in the morning sun. "Oh, you only wish, princess. I can't just leave you here with the herd and expect you to know what you're doing. Besides, have you already forgotten why we're out here in the first place?" She loosened her grip on the reins and gave her horse her head.

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed angrily. He looked back into his binoculars and scanned the wide open plains, his gaze passing over the backs of the head of thirty cattle that were grazing contently fifty yards before them. He and Maddie sat atop their horses beneath a large tree, shading themselves and giving their mounts a rest as they settled in for the long day that was to come. He saw nothing but open plains, cattle, and blue sky.

"I haven't forgot, damn it. Lay off for a while, ya nosy little shit."

"Good. Just keep a sharp eye out for those cattle rustlers. No doubt they'll be here some time during the day."

"I know, I know," Jack grumbled back and continued his vigilance over the horizon and around the cattle. He recalled earlier that morning around seven o-clock when Bonnie came up to them and stated there were cattle rustlers about stealing from neighboring ranchers. She issued them orders to drive the cattle out to pasture, with the help of three other ranch hands, and keep their guns at the ready and their eyes sharp for any signs of the thieves. Through his sleep-deprived mindset, he barely remembered exactly what she had all said, but he was however able to summarize what his chore was to be for the next five days or so. Even with two cups of coffee flowing through his body, he still had trouble keeping his eyes open and his focus keen.

"You see anything yet?"

"No, and if you keep asking me that _every five fucking minutes_, things probably won't change!" he barked back, letting his binoculars drop heavily from his hands and slam against his chest; he grimaced at the discomfort but was thankful for the neck strap that kept the bulky thing from falling onto his groin.

Maddie jutted out her bottom lip and tucked in her chin, giving him a look similar to what a parent would give to a child. "Ahhhh," she remarked in a mocking tone, "does someone need a nap today?"

"No," he shot back menacingly as he glared over at her, "someone needs to SHUT UP!" His booming retort spooked both horses from their half-awake state, making their riders gather the reins and tense up in preparation for their mounts to jink about. When the horses did nothing more but flinch in place, Maddie and Jack relaxed and glared at each other.

"Would you calm the hell down, Marston?" she demanded as she tugged down on her hat. The wind began to pick up slightly, causing her hair to flow behind her. "If you keep your antics up, you'll scare the cattle into a stampede, and that's something I'd rather not deal with today. We've already got enough on our plates with the threat of the cattle rustlers."

"Oh, bullshit. They won't spook." He motioned to the herd before them with an upturned hand. "They're all just fine grazing. Nothing's gonna happen."

"Don't go jinxing us, now, boy. I'd rather not have the tides turn on us when we least expect it." Her eyes wandered about at their surroundings warily; she frowned. "God knows what'll happen, anyway."

"Pssh! You worry too much, lady."

She turned her frown back to him, her eyes narrowing by a fraction. A serious tone suddenly took over her as she stated, "Shit can happen when you least expect it. I know that from experience, so don't get too cocky."

He shrugged nonchalantly and looked off into the distance. "Whatever you say, miss."

Silence drifted its way between them, enveloping them with its awkward presence. Five solid minutes passed with no conversation; only the sigh of the breeze and the occasional bellow of a cow call interrupted the quiet vigilance. Jack looked across the plains at the other three men who accompanied them on their mission; all three were spread out evenly around the other side of the herd, about three hundred yards in front of him and Maddie and fifty yards before the cattle. He recognized the one on his left from the night before, Joshua, the boy who helped them unload the wagon. He studied his features, utterly bored in the monotonous silence and his job, and he came to recognize that the young man he was enamored with was little more than about seventeen, maybe even a little older than that, with a scrawny build and a mop of dark-brown hair that was barely contained from underneath his straw hat. He sat atop his chestnut gelding looking just as bored as Jack was, staring off into space with a reflective frown upon his thin lips. He was handsome in appearance, dressed like all the other ranch hands, and had a quiet way about him. He was lost in his thoughts most of the time, and it took a great deal to get him started in a conversation. Nevertheless, he was a charming young man with the most chivalric qualities and a hard work ethic to boot. Jack didn't know why, but he liked the boy, if only for his quiet demeanor and the ever-present thoughtful look in his hazel eyes. _Joshua's a good kid_, he concluded with an inward smile at the boy before he looked over at the second cowpoke that was directly across from where he and Maddie were positioned.

The second man, Bill, he recognized from the first night of his imprisonment at the MacFarlane ranch. He was the older man who kept a watch over him since that night, and although he spoke hardly a word to him afterwards, he had a way about him that was pleasant, albeit in a strange way. He said little to Jack, but when he did, it was his deep voice that kept Jack on the edge, wanting to listen to whatever he had to say, even if it meant little to him. He too was refined like Joshua, only he voiced his thoughts every so often. He too was a philosopher at heart, a ponderer of life and nature, and he often asked the strangest things concerning his surroundings and life in general, everything from why the weather was as it was to what humans' purpose was in the world. He looked to be in his early thirties, with short graying hair and a face like weathered leather. He always kept his thick mustache trimmed neatly, and as Jack looked him over, he had to grin at the philosophical way he stroked his facial hair and stared down at his dapple-gray mare. He was thinking hard about something, whatever that was. Jack guessed it was another one of his strange life questions. Shaking his head, he looked to his right and let his eyes wander over the third ranch hand.

He had never spoken to Ira prior to that morning, up until he shook his hand and introduced himself to him and the other two ranch hands before they drove the cattle to pasture. Jack didn't take to the young man immediately; there was something about him that didn't tick just right, that seemed out of place, and Jack couldn't point it out at first when he met him. However, as he looked him over, it was apparent to him then. He was in his twenties, with a stocky, well-muscled build, and he had a darker complexion than most of the white men on the ranch. Jack estimated he was part Indian; he had to be, with his tan skin, deep-set eyes and jutting forehead, and his semi-long black hair. But he wasn't completely Indian: his skin wasn't as dark as it should've been, and he had all but done away with the accent. Still, he was an eye-catcher, and he wasn't as outspoken as some men on the ranch. He sat atop his Appaloosa stallion holding his buffalo rifle rigidly and looking slowly about, his dark eyes searching. He had not once broken out of character; he was there for one purpose and one purpose only, not to diddle about or be bored like the rest of the cowpokes. Bored with him, Jack looked away and stared down at his Dark Horse. He snorted softly when he realized his steed had fallen asleep. Very quickly, he too felt himself slipping into a dream-like state, and it was hard to keep his eyes open.

_Why am I even here?_ he thought with a tired sigh. He adjusted himself in the saddle in an effort to stay awake, and he contemplated further. _Maddie, Joshua, Bill, and Ira all have guns, but I don't. _He looked down at the saddle horn, where his lasso lay wrapped around it. _All I have is this useless thing, and that won't even be useful if things go south for us today. _He shook his head. _This is a complete waste of my time. I could be back in the corral working with Sundance or doing something more productive than sitting here and looking like an idiot on the plains._

He merely jumped a foot out of the saddle when Maddie cleared her throat to break the long silence.

"So…I saw you gawking at that horse thief this morning when we were saddling up. What was that all about?" She looked over at him with an intent countenance.

"What about it?" he yawned back.

"I was just curious is all." She paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Why did you stare when those two sheriffs from Armadillo, Eli and Jonah, took him away? You had the strangest look on your face."

He shrugged and busied himself by wrapping the reins around the saddle horn. He picked up his lasso and fiddled with it in his hands. "I don't know, Maddie. I…I guess I felt bad for the kid after all that happened yesterday."

She blinked. "You felt bad for him? Why? He's a little punk that needed to be straightened out."

"I know, I know. It's just that…" He frowned and looked away, keeping his gaze to the ground. Shame flushed his face; he felt it grow red-hot as he confessed, "That could've been me, I guess. I mean, here I am, doing my time and still alive, when they're gonna take him back to Armadillo and have him tried and hanged in front of everybody. I don't feel…obligated to be here, that's all."

She was stunned into silence at his honest response; she sat atop her black beauty in awe, her mouth dropping open to form a small, perfect "o".

"I just don't think it's fair is all. I mean, I've killed fourteen people and robbed a bank, and all _he _did was steal a horse." He shook his head, disgusted by the system. "It's not right." He looked over at his companion when she didn't respond. "What's wrong with you?"

She slowly recovered, blinking rapidly. "Yeah, it's just…Well, I didn't think you would be like this, after all you've done and said. It's just…weird."

"Hmm."

"And you're right," she continued, sitting up in the saddle and stirring her horse temporarily out of her nap. "I think it's wrong as well, although you have to take into consideration that he may not be hanged for this. He will go to court and be tried, that is true, but, if anything, he'll be fined and do some jail time. I wouldn't worry too much on it, Jack. He'll pay for his mistakes, but I'm certain he won't pay with his life."

"I guess."

"You sound so unsure," she noted softly.

"And why shouldn't I be? With how screwed up the government and the law is, I'd be hard-pressed to believe in justice nowadays."

"Why do you say that?" she inquired, her voice sounding uncharacteristically kind.

He shot her an irritated glare. "Just look at what happened to my father! Edgar Ross killed him in cold blood, gunned him down as if he were nothing more than a work horse that had gone lame on him. He killed him, Maddie, just for the hell of it, just because he thought he was preventing another problem in this so-called civilized land. And so he took it upon himself to storm our farm and kill Uncle and my pa and rid my family of a life that we worked _so damn hard _to get. It's absolute bullshit, Maddie. Absolute _bullshit!_" After his rant, he sat panting in the saddle, his anger fuming beneath his flesh. He pursed his lips and glared off past the herd and Bill. He fought the bubbling outrage that battled its way closer and closer to the surface.

Again, she fell silent beside him, shocked and unable to speak. After a great deal of time, she was finally able to whisper, "Is that what _really _happened that day at Beecher's Hope?"

He glowered malevolently down at the saddle horn. "Yes," he growled back.

"I…I never knew. I was told the opposite of what you've told me."

"Yeah, well, that's the law for ya," he scoffed back, shaking his head. His body almost shook from his anger. "They figure that if they can beat the ones who were there to the punch and tell lies to cover up the truth, they'll certainly do that to make up for their wrong-doings."

"You're talkin' nonsense, Jack," she rebuked, shaking her head as well. Her countenance hardened as she declared, "The law is there to serve and protect, not subjugate and terrorize."

"DON'T believe a thing you hear, Miss Maddie! _Everything _that I've heard come out of a lawman's mouth has been nothing but lies and deceit! They're nothin' but a bunch of backstabbing morons who don't take the blame and responsibility themselves! They're like the nasty politicians, only with guns and a shiny little badge that makes them better than everyone else, apparently." He gripped the saddle horn with excessive force, making it creak as he hissed through clenched teeth, "Fuckin' bastards, anyway."

"So…how old were you when this happened?"

"Sixteen. Pa had just gotten back from dealing with Ross' bullshit mission when he was gunned down by the person who made him run around all of Texas and Mexico for months on end."

"How old was your pa when he…passed on?"

Jack sighed, his sorrow suddenly getting the best of his anger. He thought back on the days of his parents' deaths and felt his heart tighten with pain and his throat clench around the lump that had begun to form. "Thirty-eight. He had so much more to do, so much more he wanted to accomplish…Ma was forty when she died. They were both gone too damn fast, too early…"

"We all think we have time, Jack. Sometimes things happen and we're left with the questions, the unresolved dreams and aspirations. Life doesn't always happen the way people want it to."

His anger and sadness dwindled as he looked her over. Something about her voice told him she was reflective and empathetic. Indeed, she looked it: her head was tilted downward, her lips holding a resentful frown, and her brown eyes had a faraway look to them even as she gazed down at Gypsy's silvery mane blowing in the wind. Her hair rippled and waved about behind her, capturing Jack in the moment and seizing his full attention.

"You sound as if you know what I'm talking about," he said softly, surprised at how quickly their conversation had turned into a serious, intimate sharing of details.

"I do," she confessed softly, almost too quiet for his ears to hear.

"Really?" he asked, his interest piqued. He sat up in the saddle and subconsciously leaned closer to her. "What happened to you?"

Her expression suddenly hardened, and she brought herself back up, her pride and guard tugging herself back up in the saddle like a sagging puppet before the start of a show. "Nothing," she snapped back, her efforts in keeping herself a secret becoming obvious.

"You're lyin', Maddie. Tell me what happened."

She threw him a nasty glare. "Why do _you _care? Who are _you _to ask me of my past? Why should _I _be the one to spill my story when it should be _you _instead?"

"I already told my story."

She shook her head stubbornly. "Not all of it, you haven't."

"So you want me to tell you everything about me and not tell me a single damn thing in return?"

She refused to answer; she simply stared at him, unblinking and expecting him to dive right in and explain everything about himself.

"Tough shit, Maddie. I'm not budgin', not until you tell me something about you first."

She rolled her eyes and sighed greatly, becoming fed up with him. "Why? What's so interesting about me that you'd want to know?"

"Well, what's so interesting about _me _that you'd want to know? According to you, I'm just another bastard outlaw who needs to be tried and punished for his crimes. But who would've guessed this bastard outlaw had a life beforehand, a soul, a heart!" He grinned, enjoying his play with her, before he shed his humor and replaced it with seriousness again as he continued, "Seriously, Maddie. Tell me something about you, and I'll tell you in kind."

She threw back her head and guffawed. "So we're coming to an agreement about swapping stories?" she questioned disbelievingly. She motioned to herself, then to him, then back again at herself as she reciprocated, "So, what, I'll say something, then you'll do the same, and then it's back to me? A call and answer conversation of sorts? Huh…I didn't think you'd be so much of an intelligent prodding bastard when it came to these types of things."

He tucked his chin into his collarbone and gave her a sardonic look.

Her face hardened back into her tough-girl mask as she stared forward, her eyebrows furrowing. "Not gonna happen, Marston."

"Oh, you're just bein' a yellow-belly now!" he chided, an amused smirk growing on his lips.

"I am not! I just refuse to expel any information about myself to a low-life like you. Who knows then what you'll do with it, to somehow mold it to your benefit and pit it against me somehow."

"Now why would I do something like that?"

"Because you're an ass."

"Oh, stop being such a stuck-up princess. For once, just be a man-or a woman, in your case-and fess up."

She shook her head stubbornly; her long dark hair swayed across her back at the movement. "Hell no."

"_Now _look who's bein' the ass," he grumbled as he faced forward, frustrated.

For over an hour, Jack poked and prodded, trying to get any information out of her, but to no avail. She refused to budge, only retaliating back by throwing the attention on to him and demanding he explain himself to her. He refused as well, and in the end, both of them sat on their horses flustered and scowling as they plotted a way to get answers from the other. By the time they were mentally spent, it was noon, and the sun had truly begun to beat down on the land with veracity. Their canteens were half-empty and their food rations gone by the time the afternoon passed into evening and the weather had begun to drift back down to a bearable temperature. As dusk approached, and their questioning had gone nowhere, they finally gave up and drove the herd back home with the help of Bill, Ira, and Joshua.

As she locked him in his cell for the night, Jack warned, "Don't think that just because this day is over I'm gonna give up. I'm still gonna keep buggin' ya for answers until you just tell me."

She gave him a fake smile and replied, "And don't think that just because you're a stubborn jackass you'll get any answers out of me. I'm still gonna keep refusing and will keep bugging _you _for answers until _you _tell _me_."

He returned the look, enjoying their game. "I'll be looking forward to tomorrow, then."

She merely chuckled and shook her head as she headed out the door.

* * *

"So what happened to you?" Jack probed, trying to hide the smile in his voice as he questioned her for the fifth time that afternoon.

Maddie gave an angry growl and yelled, "For the last fucking time, _leave me alone!_"

He shook his head. "No way. Not until you tell me."

"Well, I'm not confessing a damn thing to you until you tell me _your _story. It's as simple as that."

He chortled and leaned closer to her; beneath him the Dark Horse nickered questioningly and looked back at him as he felt his rider's weight shift. Jack paid him no heed as he stared at Maddie, intentionally making her uncomfortable. "Oh, come on, miss. One of us _has _to break, and I'm bettin' it's gonna be you."

"Not on my life will it be!" she shouted back. "I won't be the one putting my heart on my sleeve and telling you everything that happened from day one."

Jack sighed, growing frustrated. His patience was quickly wearing off, and his tactics weren't as effective as he thought they would be. He felt more acutely aware of his surroundings, and his focus was improved, as well as his overall disposition, from the restful night he had. He had made up for his sleep deprivation, and now he was back with a vengeance. He noted that Maddie seemed a little off, like she hadn't slept well or wasn't feeling the greatest that morning. She sagged in the saddle; her hair looked slightly unkempt, as if she didn't bother to brush it out as well as she should have after waking up; bags were apparent under her eyes, and she kept spacing off whenever there was a lapse in their conversation.

_Maybe I should compromise with her_, he thought with a growing frown. _She won't back down from this, so maybe if I try something different, I'll get somewhere._

Clearing his throat, he offered, "How about this: you ask me one question, one small question about absolutely anything, and I'll answer it, but only if I get to ask you a small question in return. We'll go back and forth like that, just so it's fair. How does that sound?"

She frowned and looked down at her hands; she picked at her cuticles and bit down on her lip in thought. After a time, she said, "Alright then."

He gestured to her with a hand, coaxing her on. "Ladies first."

She paused to think of a question, her eyes darting about in thought. When the inquiry came to her, she asked, "What was your life like before you killed people?"

He snorted, amused by her question. He lifted up his index finger and waved it at her tauntingly as he admonished, "Ah, ah, ah, Maddie. Ask me a smaller question; that one's too broad. Try again."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. How about this: what is your earliest memory?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "Uh…Hmm, I don't quite know…Uh…I guess it would be sitting around the campfire with my sister and parents, and Uncle Dutch and the rest of us supposed outlaws. Pa and Ma ran with a gang, and when they had me and Annabelle, we just became one big family, I suppose. When you're a little kid, you don't realize what's all goin' on around you, but now that I look back on it…" He trailed off with a shake of his head and stared out at the grazing herd, appalled by his parents' past life.

"So you were screwed to begin with, huh?" she generalized, shaking her head and looking him over with a mixture of pity and disgust. "You were born an outlaw and just grew bigger."

"No!" he snapped, offended by her assumptions. "That's not how it was. Sure, Pa and Ma made bad choices, but when they had me and Annabelle, things started to become clearer to them, especially after the gang left Pa for dead after he got shot while they were trying to rob a bank. So we left that life, and we started over."

"Who's Annabelle?"

"My sister."

"Where is she now?"

"She's dead. She died when I was little. She got sick; I don't rightly remember what she got sick with, but she's been gone for…_years_." He nodded to her and gave an expectant look. "What about you? What's your earliest memory?"

She smiled softly as she became lost in her past; her eyes glazed over in recollection. "My mother holding me and reading bedtime stories. She had the most soothing voice…and her hair used to cover me like a blanket. She had longer hair than me, and I used to cuddle into it and fall asleep to her reading to me. And her accent…Oh, her Irish accent! It was so thick, but it was so entrancing to listen to, especially when she'd read or sing to me."

Jack blinked, taken aback by her heartwarming memory. He felt uncertainty rise in his gut, and he hesitated to ask his question. "Where…where is your mother now?"

Pain enveloped Maddie's brown eyes; instead of looking away like Jack thought she would, she met eyes with him and said simply, "She's dead."

His heart bled for her; sympathy morphed his expression. He frowned with guilt and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged angrily, her fair face once again hardening into a cold stare. Her gaze never broke away from his as she stated, "You wanted to know."

He sighed through his nose and looked away from her to stare down somberly at the Dark Horse's brutish head. He didn't know what to say, so he fell silent.

"My turn," Maddie said bitterly. "So, since your parents are dead, and you now own Beecher's Hope, is there any chance you'll stay there after Bonnie and I have forced you to fix it up? Men usually revert back to their nasty old selves if allowed to, so I'm just curious as to what your intentions are for the future after you've returned home."

He shook his head. "Beecher's Hope is not my home. Not anymore."

"But it _is _your property, Jack. You've inherited it, as is your right. It is also your right, your _responsibility_, to continue the ranch, is it not?"

He frowned deeply at this and refused to respond. He turned his head slightly to the side, avoiding her piercing gaze and inquiry.

"_Is it not?"_

"Yes, damn it!" he shouted as he looked back up at her. "I _know _it's mine now, alright? Now stop bein' such a vindictive ass and leave it alone!" He took a refreshing breath before calmly stating, "Look, I didn't know your mother was dead, just as you didn't know my sister was dead. I wasn't meanin' to be nosy or hurtful, it just turned out that way."

"That's bullshit, Marston," she argued, a vengeful scowl forming across her full lips. "It was your _very intention _to be probing."

"I can say the same to you, Maddie, so don't pull that shit on me."

Stunned, she recoiled in the saddle with raised eyebrows. She was unable to retort a nasty comment, so she merely looked away with the same scowl that had quickly returned. She sighed through her nose, her chest rising and falling hastily at the effort.

Jack took the opportunity to continue the questioning. "Alright, so…what about your pa? Is he still…around?"

He had never seen her look so evil in all the weeks they'd worked alongside each other: the most sadistic glare instantly crossed her face as she glanced back at him. Her hair whipped maliciously about her face and shoulders from the wind, adding to her intimidating demeanor as she growled back, "Yeah, that bastard's still around."

He was taken aback by her response more-so than her countenance, and he felt himself squirm uncomfortably in the saddle beside her. He cleared his throat and did his best not to cringe as he noted cautiously, "I, uh…I take it you two aren't on the best of terms."

She shook her head, a violent and brief jerk of affirmation. "Nope."

"What did he-?"

"It's _my _turn to question you, Marston," she interjected harshly, cutting him off in an instant. He shut his mouth quickly, not wanting to rile her further and project her sudden rage on him. "You, on the other hand, still haven't answered my previous question. So let me ask it again: do you plan on staying at Beecher's Hope after you've repaired it?"

He frowned at her, despite his inward heeding of not angering her further. He rolled his eyes and gestured aimlessly before him. "What do you want me to say? That I'll return home and be the prodigal son that you and Bonnie want me to be? That I'll go back there and live the good life and everything will be fine and dandy?" He scoffed loudly and shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maddie, I don't think I can do that. Beecher's Hope, to me, is a nightmare of the past that's filled with nothing but heartache and lost dreams. That ranch is a lost cause; it _has _been from day one. I know Pa had the best intentions for me and Ma, but that still doesn't help me now after all these years, after all I've been through and done. There's no amount of money or pressure from you or Bonnie that will get me back there and keep me there."

"That's where you're wrong, Marston," she rebuked stubbornly, turning slightly in the saddle to face him fully in a threatening manner. She rested her farthest elbow on the saddle horn in a haughty, self-righteous manner as she pointed to him with her other hand and said, "You are going back there, whether you like it or not, and you are going to carry out your father's legacy as a well-to-do rancher. It's what's best for you."

"_Who the fuck are you to tell me what's best for me?!" _he demanded, turning as well in the saddle. He pointed to her with a jamming finger, emphasizing his rebuttal as he yelled, "Who are you to tell me what I'm supposed to do with my life? You have _no fucking right _to do that, and neither does Bonnie! I'm a man, and I can do whatever I want, whether or not it pleases you controlling bitches!"

She ended his rant by drawing her pistol and pointing it at his forehead. "You are one hell of an ungrateful prick, you know that? We're doing this for you so that you can _LIVE_, Jack. Would you rather be hanged in front of all the people who's families have been torn apart by your recklessness? Would you rather be gunned down like your father and die before your life could blossom? _Appreciate what you're going through, goddamn it! _You might not like it, and you might fight against it, but you know that you need some sense of direction! Just look back a month ago at how screwed up your life was! Once again, I am debating whether or not to pull this trigger and end your miserable existence; sometimes I can't help but think that you're a waste of life. You don't appreciate life and you certainly don't appreciate what we're doing for you. So suck it up, you whiny little brat, and accept what is and what should be!"

He glowered back at her and challenged softly, "You wanna pull the trigger, Maddie? Then fuckin' do it. If you think I'm gonna-"

His words were cut off abruptly when a loud, thunderous gunshot sounded from somewhere. Their banter was ended instantly; all traces of vindictive stubbornness and pride were cast aside as they looked around for the source of the shot. Jack looked over at Maddie when she holstered her gun and gasped in horror.

"What? What's going on?"

"IRA!" she screamed and kicked her horse forward into a gallop.

Jack followed, confused. He rode behind her, and when he looked past her and her black mare, he gasped as well at the atrocious sight.

Ira was lying in a puddle of his own blood on the ground; a large, ghastly bullet-hole, roughly two inches wide, had decimated the center of his chest. Blood trickled out of the corners of his mouth, and his eyes stared placidly up at the blue, tranquil sky above. His buffalo rifle lay by his side, easily within his reach but useless now that he was mortally wounded. Beside him, his Appaloosa stallion nickered and pranced in place. The horse's eyes were wide and rolling about in its sockets, the whites plainly showing, and his well-muscled body trembled. As Jack and Maddie neared the Indian, they understood he couldn't be saved. The two pulled up their horses to a sliding stop and dismounted in unison before they ran over to the dying man and knelt beside him. Leaning over him, Maddie held his head with both hands, overcome with emotion and shock.

"Ira! Ira, stay with me! IRA!"

The man, calm even in his last moments, locked eyes with her. He opened his mouth to mutter something, but his body grew limp as he gave one last, shaky exhale, and his head sagged heavily in Maddie's hands. The life left his dark eyes; they held a faraway, glassy look as he saw no more. Still gripped in shock, Maddie stared down in dismay at the dead man, her hands delicately holding his heavy head above the ground.

Across from Maddie, on the other side of Ira, Jack watched him die. He was held stricken with shock; he no longer felt inside himself, as if he were watching the traumatic moment above his body. He watched as Maddie gently set Ira's head on the ground, sliding her fingers gingerly out from under it.

"Jack! Maddie! What's goin' on?"

Jack had barely returned from his out-of-body experience and could hardly acknowledge who was shouting him name at that moment. He looked up as the sound of charging horses came nearer to them. He stared dumbly up at Joshua and Bill as they pulled their horses to a stop several feet away. They wasted no time drawing their firearms; they held them aloft and loaded.

"Maddie, what happened?" Bill asked, staring down at their fallen comrade with wide-eyed panic.

She shook her head solemnly, hinting he couldn't have been saved. "Ira's dead." Her gaze hardened as she stood up and grabbed her repeater from her back, swinging it over her shoulder and holding it aloft. She loaded it quickly and tucked the butt against her shoulder. Jack and the other two remaining men instantly saw a change come over her: she stood with military-like seriousness, her eyes searching all around them and her gun at the ready. Her knees were slightly bent, and her eyebrows were cast heavily over her brown eyes that were suddenly ablaze with anger and vengeance. She would find the one responsible for her friend's death, and she would take their lives in kind.

"Keep your eyes peeled and your guns ready, boys," she ordered to the two armed men, her voice low and authoritative. Her steely demeanor surprised Jack; just seconds ago, he could've sworn he saw tears gathering in her eyes as she held Ira's head in her gentle hands. Now, she had the men at her command, and her wits were about her as she held her gun at the ready and swiveled around in her spot, searching.

It all happened in a matter of seconds.

The first bullet caught Bill in the temple, mutilating his skull and killing him instantly. His lifeless body fell heavily out of the saddle and dropped to the ground beneath his spooking dapple-grey in a rag doll-like fashion. A second bullet struck Joshua in the throat, precisely ripping right through the center and throwing him out of the saddle. Jack saw the boy fall and, seeing as he was closer to him, leaped forward with arms spread out to catch him. The boy fell into his arms heavily, and as Jack eased him clumsily down onto the ground, he locked eyes with him. Jack cradled him in his arms and stared down at him, utterly helpless in his utmost time of need. He knew it was all over for the young man; he felt tears swim in his eyes as he shook his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it when didn't know what to say. What _could _he say, except "I'm sorry"? He didn't realize it at first, but he kept shaking his head, whether out of pity, despair, or denial he did not know.

His eyes wide in shock, pain, and at the prospect of inescapable death, Joshua opened his mouth and uttered a despairing, demanding gurgle. Blood bubbled and gushed out of his mouth and flowed down the sides of his face; it spurted out from the gaping hole in his throat. The boy's terror and disappointment were excruciatingly evident as he gripped Jack's triceps with unexpected strength. His body twitched and shook as the nerves and organs quickly began to shut down, and despite his desperate fight for survival, he went limp in Jack's arms. His eyes rolled back so that only the whites were showing; his head fell back against his bearer's forearm; his fingers loosened their grip and his arms hung down to rest on the ground. Not knowing what else to do, Jack respectfully eased the boy's body down to the ground and slid his arms out from underneath him. He looked over at Bill's dead body; he felt his gorge rise at the sight of what was left of the man's head. He had to look away to keep himself from getting sick, and he bowed his head as he looked back at Joshua.

He was unable to grieve for their deaths as an assault of bullets whizzed all around him. Instinctively, he ducked down and pressed himself against the ground beside the young man's body. He didn't dare stand up and fight without any guns, so he kept himself low among the prairie grass as he looked up and watched the gunfight rage before him.

A hundred yards away, a group of mounted men came charging toward him and Maddie, their guns raised and their sights resting on the last remaining cowpoke. Maddie stood fearlessly with her gun raised and her courage at the height the likes of which Jack had never seen before. A dauntless scowl of determination set itself upon her beautiful face; her long hair waved heroically behind her like a black banner of revenge. Her fierceness had him in awe as she took in a deep breath and aimed her sights on her first target. She was a woman of true grit, no doubt.

Jack counted there were at least ten cattle rustlers barreling fearlessly toward her; however, within seven seconds, only five remained. Her skill with her Henry repeater was unmatched; her aim was deadly, her reloading time quick and efficient. She had cut them down with a single, precise shot to the chest, knocking them out of the saddle and sending them tumbling down to the ground to be trampled by their foaming, pent-up mounts. Four more seconds passed, and she had taken down two more. However, as they came up to her with only twenty yards between them, her luck was upturned.

The remaining cattle rustlers had responded with their own storm of bullets; the first missed by a long-shot, but the last two held true to their aim. Maddie grunted with pain as the second bullet tore through her left shoulder; she cried out in agony when the last ripped through her right thigh. Blood stained her clothing; she slouched forward, favoring her leg, and gasped in excruciation, her face contorting in anguish. Nevertheless, she attempted to straighten back up and raise her firearm to dispose of the last three.

It was then that a silver gleam caught Jack's attention; out of the corner of his eye, the sun cast a hopeful ray of light upon Joshua's revolver. The boy had dropped it the second he was shot, and it had fallen nearby. With an optimistic cry, he snatched up the revolver and leaped to his feet. Keeping the revolver by his side, he aimed up at the men and drew back on the hammer six times with the side of his hand, shooting the last remaining men three times each in the chest as they came galloping up to Maddie. They all cried out in excruciation before falling to their deaths beneath their horses' hooves. Their bodies rolled and tumbled to a stop all around Maddie, and their horses scattered around her with fearful whinnies.

Silence enveloped the battle field, sending a chill through Jack's body as he rushed up beside Maddie. He touched the small of her back with a gentle, concerned hand, looking her over with panic. With so much death that had happened in such short time, he was shaking with adrenaline and fear, and his mind was a tornado of traumatizing memories, flashes of macabre snap-shots. He could barely access the current situation, but somehow, he was able to understand that things had quickly gone to hell, and if he didn't act quickly, it would get worse. Plus, the thought of Maddie dying in the aftermath of the gunfight was strangely mortifying for him to think about.

"Are you all right?" he panted. He tossed aside Joshua's revolver to grasp her uninjured arm and help prop her up with she doubled over in excruciation.

Shoving off his hands, she screwed her eyes shut and gasped as the pain reached an almost unbearable high. With difficulty, she slung her repeater over her back. She let her left arm dangle as she pressed her wound with her right hand, grunting as the pressure exacerbated her agony. Blood stained her hand and continued to trickle down her arm. She held all her weight on her left leg; her right thigh had begun to bleed considerably. Nevertheless, she did her best to breathe through the pain and stand up as straight as possible.

Jack found himself staring at her wounds with wide-eyed horror. "My God, Maddie, you're bleeding badly! We have to get you back to the ranch."

Through her misery, she snickered and smiled half-heartedly. She shook her head, trying to play off her injuries as nothing more than a scratch. "I'm fine, Jack. I've been shot countless times; it's a norm for me. You _do _realize you're talkin' to a bounty hunter, right?"

He stepped closer to her, shaking his head. "Never mind that, Maddie. Don't play around with me. You're hurt. Bad. Come on." He pressed his hand against her back and once again held his other hand hovering beside her right arm.

She frowned at his touch but she acquiesced, or at least attempted to. She managed to limp forward several steps forward but soon had to come to an abrupt stop when she could no longer bear the excruciation. Her legs buckled unexpectedly, and if it weren't for Jack's quick reflexes and strength, she would've collapsed to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs and clothing. He caught her in mid-fall, carefully wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Whoa, there, Miss Maddie! Steady now."

"Oh, shut it, princess," she growled back in between gasps. "I'm just fine. I got a little ahead of myself is all."

"Quit playin' the tough girl, miss," he griped and carefully removed one of his arms from her waist. With his free hand, he grabbed her uninjured arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. "I think it's safe to say you don't need to be impressin' me anymore with your true grit, especially after how well you handled those men. Now, let's get you to get to the doctor, and fast, before you pass out."

"I said I'm fine, damn it," she argued, trying to pull out of his grasp and unfurl her arm up and away from his shoulders. "Just let me get on my horse and I'll be just fine." She looked around, and panic enveloped her beautiful face. _"OH, SHIT! Where's the herd?!"_

In truth, Jack had completely forgotten about the cattle, and as he and Maddie looked around, the thirty head of cattle were nowhere to be seen.

"Son of a bitch!" she cursed harshly. "We gotta go find 'em, Jack! Bonnie will certainly kill us both if we don't round up them cows!" She tried to limp over to her horse, who stood ten feet away looking unnaturally calm after all the fuss, but she once again nearly fell forward on her face had it not have been for Jack.

"Damn it, Maddie!" he shouted as he caught her and placed her right arm back around her shoulders. "That's it! I'm takin' you back to Bonnie before you bleed out." Tightening his arm around her waist, he held her up almost completely off the ground. He whistled for his mount; the Dark Horse galloped up to him from a hundred yards away and stood obediently before him and Maddie, his nostrils flaring and ears pinned back at the scent of blood.

As he suspected, she fought against him as he half-carried, half-drug her up to his horse.

"Get your hands off me, you bastard! I can walk just fine."

"No, you can't," he laughed. "You almost fell on your face twice."

"Well, you can't fuckin' do this to me and treat me like a child! Let go of me, you ruffian!"

He began to get irritated. "Stop bitchin' and let me help you, you stubborn jack-ass of a woman!"

She fought with renewed vigor, but he could tell it was quickly tiring her out. She began to breathe heavily, and her body shook from the effort as well as from the blood loss. "I WILL NOT be handled like some piece of luggage, Jack Marston! You let me go this instant or else I'll-"

"You'll what?" he grunted back, tightening his embrace on her. "You'll shoot me? Big fuckin' deal, Maddie. Besides, you don't have the strength to do it. Now stop being stupid and let's get out of here."

"_But what about the herd?!_ We can't just leave them beh-!"

He stopped abruptly and snapped his head down, giving her a resolving glare. "FUCK THE HERD! They'll be fine! You, on the other hand, _won't _be if we keep standin' here wasting time. Now, come on, let's get you back to Bonnie's!" Against her wishes, he carried her up to his horse. She warily put her left boot into the stirrup and grabbed onto the saddle horn and cantle. Her body quaking from the effort, she pulled herself exhaustedly up into the saddle. Jack carefully placed his hands around her hips and pushed her up on top of the Dark Horse, blushing all the while. It was a wonder that she was able to throw her right leg over the saddle, but as she did, she cried out in anguish and screwed her eyes shut tightly, gasping at the pain.

"What…What about Ira, Bill, and Joshua?" she panted as she plopped down heavily into the seat, her wounds continuing to bleed. Beneath her, the Dark Horse snorted and growled with anxiety as the blood overpowered his nostrils.

Jack patted the dark steed's neck reassuringly. "We can do nothing for them," he replied with brutal honestly. Hopping twice on the ball of his foot, he jumped up on top of his horse, mounting up behind her on his horse's rump. He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping hold of her with his left hand and gathering up the reins with his right. He grimaced as he felt her blood from her left shoulder wound seep into his left sleeve. Terror gripped his heart with ice-cold fingers; he knew she didn't have much time before she passed out and/or died. With no further prompting, he turned his horse around.

He was about to kick his horse forward when, unexpectedly, Maddie whistled. He was confused for a split second, but then he understood when Gypsy came galloping up to them and nickered warily at her rider. She nudged her knee with her muzzle, her dark eyes looking inquisitively at her, as if to say, "Are you okay?" In response, Maddie grinned and weakly brushed her nose with her fingertips.

Bringing his attention back to the matter at hand, Jack cleared his throat and said, "Hold on, Maddie." He kicked the Dark Horse harshly, making the steed jump forward into a jerky gallop. Gypsy followed abreast of the gelding, her silver mane and tail whipping about behind her brilliantly.

The three-mile ride back to Bonnie's ranch seemed to take a day-long journey; the Dark Horse couldn't gallop fast enough, even with all his coaxing. _This shouldn't be taking us this damn long to get back! _Jack thought angrily, spurring his horse once again. Beneath him and Maddie, the scarred steed threw his head from side to side in protest. The horse's speed wasn't the greatest, nor was his stamina, and it seemed his greatest asset was how easily it was to anger him. The gelding was too quick-tempered; Jack grew to hate the horse and wished he and Maddie were riding Gypsy instead, who easily kept pace with them and seemed to not be breaking a sweat.

Miraculously, through her weariness and pain, Maddie shouted up to him, "Jack, stop that! Ease up on your horse! You'll kill him if you keep at him like this!"

Much to his surprise, he responded softly in her ear, "I'd rather run this horse to death than have you die on me." The honesty of his words shocked him, and before he aroused any suspicion, he quickly added, "There have been far too many deaths in one day for my liking."

He grew nervous when she didn't respond. He glanced down at her and was amazed to find she was still conscious, if only halfway, but her eyes were as wide as her enervation would allow. He had apparently shocked her to speechlessness, and so on they rode in hasty silence, barreling down the road and up and down the small hills. Jack cut corners and took as many short-cuts as possible in his rush to make it back in time before his companion fainted. His only goal at that point in his life was to get her back home in time and save her.

His heart jolted in elation when the ranch came into view half a mile down the road; they had topped a rise and were galloping down the hill to sanctuary. He sighed with relief and, unbeknownst to him, he tightened his arm around Maddie.

"We made it," he said to her with a smile.

"G-Good," she managed to stammer back as she slumped back against him.

He looked down at her with rising concern before spurring his exhausted mount further. With one last mad dash, the Dark Horse sprinted forward with whatever energy he had left, sensing that his finish line was up ahead. In his urgency, Jack switched the reins to his left hand and, reaching down her side, drew her semi-automatic pistol. As they came down the hill and entered Bonnie's property, he fired off several shots straight into the air to get the attention of whoever was around. It was the least he could do to save her now; the more people noticed their hasty return, the better the chances were for Maddie's survival. By the time he pulled the Dark Horse up to a skittering stop in front of the general store, a crowd of ranch hands had begun to accumulate before him and his spent speed. They made way for Gypsy, though, as she barreled her way over to her rider, her ears flicked forward with concern and nostrils flaring. The black mare wasn't as much as a lathered mess as the Dark Horse, but she still looked tired from the relentless run.

All eyes rested on Jack and Maddie in a split second of pandemonium; the cacophony of men's voices raged all around him as they demanded for an explanation. Most were outraged, other petrified, and some even scared. To see the outlaw kid holding his bleeding, half-conscious supervisor in his arms, much less holding her gun, certainly raised some eyebrows and made hearts quake with dread. As the yelling and shouting turned into an overwhelming roar, the door to the general store banged open. Bonnie emerged, looking perturbed.

"What in God's name is all that noise?" she demanded, her eyebrows narrowing over her flashing blue eyes. Her irritation melted into horror the instant she laid eyes on Jack and her injured friend who leaned back heavily against him. "OH, MY DEAR LORD! WHAT HAPPENED?!" She raced forward, the men around Jack parting a path for her. She stumbled to a stop beside the Dark Horse, terror seizing her beautiful features.

Jack holstered Maddie's gun as he explained, "Cattle rustlers. Maddie's hurt. Bad." He swung his right leg out of the stirrup, still keeping his arm wrapped around his overseer as he attempted to dismount slowly. Bonnie backed up to allow him some room; she stretched her arms upward, hovering her hands in front of Maddie in case she began to fall. Carefully, Jack dismounted before grasping her around the waist with both hands and lifting her up and out of the saddle. She fell into his arms awkwardly, heavily, but he recovered quickly and adjusted his grasp so that he cradled her safely and securely.

"Jack, talk to me! What the hell happened out there?!" Bonnie demanded, stepping toward him and waving her hands dramatically before her.

"Cattle rustlers tried to take the herd. Maddie was able to take down most of them, but she got shot and I took care of the rest. Your herd's still out there, Bonnie, but I had to bring Maddie back. She's bleeding really bad. We have to get her to the doc's, or else she won't make it."

"Right." She turned and pointed at the nearest ranch hand. "You! Round up as many men as you can and ride out. Get the herd back here safely, and salvage whatever you can off the rustlers. Leave their bodies." She turned to another man and pointed at him. "And you! Take care of these horses. Make sure they're properly looked after in the barn!"

As the men dispersed and carried out her orders, Bonnie turned back to Jack and said, "Jack, follow me!" Without another word, she walked briskly around the store to the doctor's office. Jack followed, walking as fast as he could while being sure not to jostle Maddie around too much. She probably didn't realize what was going on, even if she was somewhat awake, but he still felt it necessary to handle her with utmost sincerity and cautiousness. As he and Bonnie walked into the doctor's shed, the middle-aged gentleman abruptly stood up from behind his seat at his desk.

"My God, Bonnie," he breathed as he came around the desk to stand beside them. "What in the hell happened?"

Before she could reply, Jack explained hastily, "Cattle rustlers. Maddie got shot. She needs help. Right now!"

The doctor nodded and, keeping a calm demeanor, gestured to the operating table that was against the left wall. Jack laid her gently down on the white sheet that lay across the table and stood back when the doctor immediately set to work on her. He stood off to the side, inwardly panicking, as the man took off her duster with the help of Bonnie. Without hesitation, she and the man took off Maddie's bloodied tan shirt. Jack's heart skipped a beat when he saw her bare torso; his face flushed a deep red as his eyes fell on her brassier. Clearing his throat, he turned away out of respect.

"So what all happened?" Bonnie asked as she helped the doctor undress her friend. Once her torso was exposed, the doctor began examining her bullet wound before he bustled about gathering his tools. He snatched up his supplies, including a roll of bandages, a small bag of flour, and sat them on top of his desk. As he did this, Bonnie took off her friend's boots before starting on her pants.

Jack cleared his throat and, keeping his gaze to the floorboards, explained, "The rustlers just came out of nowhere...Even with all our looking around, they still caught us off-guard. Your herd is still out there…somewhere. When the shooting started, they must have spooked and taken off."

"And the others? Where's Ira, Joshua, and Bill?"

"They didn't make it."

She stared at him despairingly, her jaw dropping. Across from her, the doctor began pouring flour onto her wounds to help stop the bleeding.

He met eyes with her and frowned sadly. He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Miss MacFarlane."

The room became enveloped by a painful silence, save for Maddie's labored breathing as the doctor began stitching up her shoulder. Bonnie stood back, watching the man do his work without seeing, as she was too struck by shock and sadness from Jack's tale. Before her, Maddie laid heavily on the table, grimacing with pain and breathing heavily through her nose. Several minutes passed by until Jack could no longer stand the silence. Cautiously, he looked up and, being careful not to let his eyes wander, met gazes with his overseer and asked, "Maddie? How are you doin'?"

Through her exhaustion and excruciation, she still was able to keep her usual saucy self up. She glared over at him as she growled, "_How else _do you fuckin' think I'm doin'?"

Frowning at her friend's rudeness, Bonnie glanced up at Jack and offered, "Why don't you just wait outside? This shouldn't take too long."

"No," Maddie interjected, looking from Bonnie to Jack. She weakly nodded to him and said, "Go do your chores for the night. Someone needs to get to them, even after everything that's happened today. Livestock doesn't feed itself, and stalls don't clean themselves. So get to it, Marston, and leave me be while I still have some dignity intact."

Jack blinked, stupefied. "But, Maddie, I just can't leave you here like-"

"GO, I SAID!" she thundered, surprising everyone with sudden power in her weakened state. The exertion of her command, however, did sap some energy from her, and she closed her eyes as she did her best not to move while the doctor finished with her shoulder and began sewing up her leg. While the man was busy stitching her flesh back together, Bonnie wrapped her shoulder tightly up with bandages.

Jack stood frozen in place, torn between carrying out orders or staying beside the woman he'd come to care for. One boot was facing the doorway, the other in the direction of Maddie. He flicked his head back and forth between the two, and, in earnest, he looked at Bonnie for some sense of solace.

Bonnie nodded. "Go on, Jack. She'll be fine."

"Just like I told the boy before," Maddie grumbled.

"Hush it, Maddie," the older woman commanded, glaring down menacingly down at her. Looking back at Jack, she continued, "Go do your chores, and I'll catch up with you later after everything's been sorted and taken care of."

With a sigh, Jack turned and walked outside, shaking his head all the while.

* * *

It was dark by the time Jack had taken care of the animals and helped the other ranch hands tend to the cattle and their fallen comrades' horses. As commanded, the eight or so men sent out had rounded up the herd and brought back Ira, Bill, and Joshua back on their horses. It had been discovered that the gun that had killed the three young ranch hands was a Carcano rifle, dropped by one of the dead cattle rustlers. The guns, ammo, and other supplies looted from the rustlers wasn't much, but it was enough to increase the supply in the general store by a considerable amount, and the ten owner-less horses were added to Bonnie's herd in the corral. Jack was lucky enough not to see the three ranch hands' bodies as they were carried off to be cleaned, wrapped up, and stored in one of the supply sheds; to have seen their lifeless bodies again would have tormented him to no end. He was grateful to be done with everything in a considerably short amount of time, and more grateful to be heading toward the doctor's shed.

He was surprised to find Bonnie standing outside the doorway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest and her blue eyes staring off into the growing darkness of the night. She stood leaning against the threshold, her body silhouetted by the light from within the building. She grinned slightly as he approached; her exhaustion was blatant, both physically and emotionally, and she could barely force any sort of happiness outward.

"Evenin', Bonnie," he greeted, his voice echoing her inward turmoil.

She bobbed her head tiredly to him. "Evenin', Jack. Are chores done? Did you help out with everything?"

He nodded. "I did what I could, even though everything was pretty much done by the time I got to helping out." He looked over her shoulder, concern once again pricking his heart and stirring it awake with worry. From what he could tell, Maddie was nowhere in sight. "How's Maddie doin'? Is she all right?"

Bonnie nodded once more. "She's asleep in the back room."

"Can…Can I see her?" he asked hesitantly, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur, as if he were afraid she'd eavesdrop. He felt embarrassed to be asking permission, but his concern for Maddie outweighed his humility.

Bonnie pushed herself off the threshold and waved him in. She led the way to the back room, which wasn't particularly the tidiest room, as it was cluttered with stacks of medicinal tools and supplies, as well as an assortment of books and other artifacts. Jack didn't pay attention to any of that as he took in the sight of the sleeping beauty lying peacefully in the small bed. The covers were pulled up to her chest, and from what he could tell, she had been given another shirt, one that was clean and quite large for her petite frame. She laid on her back, her right hand lying on top of the covers and resting on her stomach, while her left arm was lying by her side in a stiff manner. Her long dark hair was like a halo for her as it lay draped over the pillow. She was as beautiful as ever, and he'd never seen her so angelic. It was captivating to see her like this, and he couldn't help but stare down at her.

_My God_, he thought as he looked her over. _How can such a cold-hearted woman look so beautiful when she's asleep? It makes no sense…But good Lord, she's never looked so beautiful as she does now._

He was jostled out of his enchantment when Bonnie nudged him in the side with her elbow and murmured, "Come on, let's leave her be for the night. She's gonna need all the rest she can get to help her heal." Blinking out of his enamored reverie, he nodded and followed her outside.

As they walked back out into the quiet night, he looked over at her and asked, "So will she be all right? She took those bullets like a man, but they sure ripped her up somethin' fierce." He stopped alongside her in front of the building.

"She'll be just fine," Bonnie chuckled back as she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She's been shot many times over, but I think what those cattle rustlers hurt most today was her pride. She's very head-strong, if you haven't figured that out already, and sometimes it gets the best of her. Oftentimes, when she gets shot, it's mostly a bullet that was either a stray or one that had actually kept to its aim, but on the off-chance that her pride is on the line, she'll get a little reckless and charge forward without thinking. With today, since you were there watching, she took the opportunity to show off, I reckon, but look where that got her."

Jack shook his head, distraught by his friend's bullheadedness. "She almost got killed today, and just for the sake of coming off as a strong woman. She's got spunk, and she's got grit, but she's also an _idiot_, Bonnie. I fear that one day her bullheadedness will get the best of her, and she'll end up paying a big price for her foolishness." He shook his head, worry clutching at his heart. "It's gonna happen one day, just you wait and see."

Beside him, Bonnie sighed in dismal agreement. She nodded solemnly as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, I know, Mister Marston, I know." She looked him over with a sad frown and noted, "You look beat." She motioned to the sheriff's office with a jerk of her head. "You should go get some rest. It's been a long day for you, and with how today has gone, tomorrow will certainly be the same for all of us. I think I'm gonna turn in as well."

He nodded and stifled back a yawn. "Yeah, I suppose so. But I don't think tomorrow's gonna be kind to anyone anyways." He shook his head, sorrow once again returning to cloak him in its suffocating magnitude. "They all died so quick and so horribly. I…I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Not like the day I rode up to Pa lying dead in a puddle of his blood…or when I shot Ross so many times down by the river. _This _was something different."

Tears swam in Bonnie's eyes. She squeezed his shoulder tightly. With difficulty, she smiled at him and said, "We'd best just wait 'til tomorrow to let ourselves grieve. Right now is not the time, not while we're so tired and don't want to think on it." She shook his shoulder gently and looked him in the eyes. "You, boy, need some rest. God knows you need it after what all happened today."

He nodded once and returned the half-hearted smile. "Yes, Miss MacFarlane. I've had enough for one day."

She took her hand off him and started forward. He fell into step behind her, and it was in an almost ethereal trance that he did so, as if he were experiencing a lucid dream. His surroundings became blurred and fuzzy in his peripheral vision; he felt as though he walked inhumanly slow, as if gravity itself were fighting against him. Before he knew it, he was turning around in his cell to face Bonnie.

He was taken off guard when she suddenly embraced him in a tight hug. He grunted with surprise and discomfort, dumbfounded by her unexpected means of affection. Her chin rested heavily on his shoulder; her arms held him tightly around his waist. A shaky sigh escaped her.

"I'm so glad you're all right, Jack."

It took a while for him to respond and return the embrace, but when he did, a new-found love and appreciation sparked within his heart. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling loved and accepted by her at last, and he whispered back, "Me, too. Thank you."


	7. Part 7: By Way of Sorrow

**I am SO SORRY for the long over-due update! I have been insanely busy these past two weeks; my sister got married on October 26th, so the night before I had to do rehearsal dinner (I was her maid of honor), then I was busy with the wedding all day on the 26th, and on the 27th I spent the day with my other sister and her two little ones (my niece and nephew) at Boo at the Zoo here in Lincoln, NE. Then school kept me busy, with two tiny papers and then work. But FINALLY Part 7 is up. Sorry to keep you all waiting so damn long! So without further ado, here's Part 7.**

**Also, in case you haven't seen, I have been putting Chapter Tracks in each chapter/part, so do be sure to check those out via Youtube. Especially check out this part's track: The Wailin' Jennys are amazing. So expand your horizons (if you haven't heard of the chapter tracks before), and enjoy music as you read. It certainly helps with writing these chapters, and it sparks inspiration and meaning into each of them.**

* * *

**Chapter Track: By Way of Sorrow - The Wailin' Jennys**

* * *

**Part 7:**

**By Way of Sorrow**

Morning came too soon for the people of MacFarlane ranch; the day broke in a gray, sorrowful dawn. Hardly any birds sang their cheery tunes and whistles; the livestock barely uttered a sound as the morning chores began. A heavy mournful air hung over the ranch like an invisible fog, but it was more than visible for all who busied themselves with their work: everyone carried on miserably, working in a melancholy manner and speaking only when necessary.

Jack awoke in his cell bed in a bleak state of mind; he was confused and crushed by the hollow, ragged hole he felt in his chest and soul. He barely knew the three men that died yesterday, and as if his guilt wasn't enough, he felt less of an accomplished man. The past month had been an upward battle in his climb for honor, and now, even as he felt so near the top, his grip had slipped on a jagged rock and he had fallen back to the very bottom, bruised and battered. The events of the other day repeated relentlessly in his mind's eye, flashing horrible, bloody images of Joshua, Bill, and Ira dying before him and haunting his soul with sorrow's cloaking blackness.

He wasn't surprised to see Bonnie-dressed in black, no less, and carrying a black suit over her shoulder-as she came into the sheriff's office to unlock his cell door; he knew Maddie wouldn't have been strong enough to do it, much less walk around properly with a bullet hole in her right thigh, so when Bonnie released him from his nightly prison, he greeted her numbly.

"Mornin', Bonnie," he murmured as he sat up in bed. He flung back the covers carelessly with a flick of his hand. "How are you feelin'? How's Maddie doin'?" He swung his legs out from under the sheets and stood up off the bed, joining her at the doorway of his cell.

She scoffed sadly and shook her head as she returned the skeleton key to her breast pocket. She didn't make eye contact with him as she stepped back to give him room to walk out. Her voice came out in a pained, hushed undertone. "It's not the greatest morning I've had, I'll tell you that much. Maddie's doin' fine. She's a little weak and can't move around much, but she's doin' well enough for someone who's been shot twice." She gestured for him to come forward, skipping warm greetings and getting right down to business. "You'll need to get your chores done as soon as possible. The funeral starts at nine o'clock, and I want everyone to be done with their work, at least the majority of it, so we can all attend and honor them properly."

Jack sniffed and nodded. "Sure thing, miss. But…am I even allowed to attend? I mean, I don't think someone like me should be there alongside everyone else."

Bonnie stared at him with obvious shock; she locked eyes with him for the first time that day. "Jack Marston, _why on earth _would you say that? _Of course _you're allowed to attend! Why wouldn't you be?"

He shrugged and started for the door to begin his morning ritual of feeding livestock. "Well, would you want the person responsible for their deaths to attend the funeral? I certainly wouldn't."

She caught his arm and held him back. She looked into his eyes when he glanced back at her, and she said tenderly, "You're not responsible for any of this, Jack. Don't take the blame for something you didn't do." She handed him the black suit she held over her shoulder and added, "After you get done with chores, change into this. It's one of Nathaniel's suits, but it should fit you well enough for the funeral."

He merely frowned at her and gently shook off her grasp. He took the suit from her and set it down on his bed before continuing outside to his chores. She followed him silently, and when he stepped out to face the dreary day, she departed from his side to go make preparations for the service. As he labored through his chores alongside the silent ranch hands, he couldn't help but let his self-inflicted guilt eat away at him like an emaciated parasite feasting upon its host. The deaths of Joshua, Bill, and Ira struck a strange heart-string hidden deep within him he never thought could've existed, and despite all the horrid things he'd done in the past month, despite the fifteen people he'd murdered, the massacre of his former co-workers plunged him into a insatiable black well of bereavement. He went through the motions of his morning routine, not really seeing what he was doing. All he saw, all he felt, was grief the likes of which he hadn't felt in months, not since the day his mother died in her bed, right before his eyes.

So when the time came for the funeral service to begin, he felt reluctant to go. He lingered behind, busying himself with excessive effort and concentration as he threw several square bales of hay into the horse corral, but eventually a certain someone forced him to attend. He hopped up and over the fence into the corral with pitch fork in hand and set to spreading out the hay for the horses. As the herd gathered around him and ate their fill, he was taken by surprise when he heard her voice behind him.

"What are you doin', Marston? Stop dinkin' around and go change into that suit! Then get your ass over there with everyone else."

He turned around and felt his jaw drop. Maddie stood before him on the other side of the fence, looking rather annoyed and in a considerable amount of pain. She was dressed in black, like Bonnie, but wore men's clothing tailored to fit her well, complete with a black vest and shirt, pants, and her duster and hat. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a beautiful braid that fell down her back gracefully. She still favored her right leg badly and kept her left arm tucked close to her side, but she was her usual bossy self as she addressed him again with narrowed dark-brown eyes.

"You deaf or something? Get goin', or you'll be late!" She waved him forward with her right hand before turning and limping away.

Jack sighed and rested the pitch fork against the side of the stable. He shook his head and uttered, "Why should I attend? I have no right to be there with everyone else. They all hate me, now that three of their best men are dead and I rode in here last night with you bleeding all over me and my saddle and holdin' your gun in my hand. What would they think if I were to show up? What good's that gonna do for everyone?"

She tediously turned back around and stared at him with an appalled countenance. "What? What kind of bullshit lies are you saying, Marston? They all _respect _you now, not hate you! The fact that you came back and told Bonnie what happened instead of getting on that nag you call a horse and leaving me out there shot and bleeding says quite a lot about you now. Do not think that your work has been in vain; we all saw first hand how you manned up and took the reins after something atrocious happened. You acted honorably, just like the incident with the horse thief, which surprised the hell out of us all. If I were you, I'd stop dwelling on the bad shit that happened and focus instead on what has become of it. You're revered here at the ranch, and the men see you differently. Think about that the next time you wanna open your stupid mouth and say such negative things. Now come on. We don't wanna be late."

"Right. Sorry." Hastily, he climbed over the fence and jumped down. He easily caught up with her within several long strides and fell into the slow, painful gait she limped as she led him back to the sheriff's office. He noticed how much effort it took for her to move, as well as the exasperated, agonized visage that scrunched up her beautiful face. Looking her over once more, he asked softly, "Are you sure you're gonna be okay to go? You look like you've been to hell and back, Miss Maddie." He hesitantly brought up his hand to hover around her waist. "Do you need any-?"

"Don't even _think _about askin' me if I need help," she shot back irritably, giving him a warning glare out of the corner of her eye. "I'm just fine, princess. I've been shot at least half a dozen times, and I can get along _just fine _on my own." She paused to grimace as the pain flared momentarily. "I'm goin' whether you or Bonnie or anyone else wants me to. I wouldn't miss their funeral for anything in the world. I have as much cause to go as you or anyone else."

With a frown, he dropped his hands away from her as they came up to the sheriff's office. _Christ alive_, he thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. _Why does she have to be so headstrong? She's bein' a fool if she thinks she's just fine limpin' around the way she is. She looks absolutely miserable. _He looked her over with a shake of his head. _She thinks she's gotta keep this charade up around me and everyone else, but what else is new? She wouldn't be herself if she wasn't so tough._

Maddie waited impatiently outside as he went into his cell and changed. It didn't take him long to figure it out, seeing as he had never worn a suit before and didn't know how to tie a tie. Uncertain, he carried the tie in his hand as he stepped out of the office and rejoined his overseer. He couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and inadequate: the suit fit him well, but he certainly didn't feel himself in it, nor did he feel worthy to wear it and be a part of the funeral. Nevertheless, he stepped outside and stood before Maddie, feeling his face flush with embarrassment and guilt and an quaint frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He glanced up at Maddie when she exclaimed, "Damn, Marston!"

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

She looked him up and down, her mouth dropping open slightly, before locking eyes with him and saying, "You know, for bein' a grungy bastard outlaw, surprisingly, you clean up well."

"Um…thanks…?"

She frowned and rolled her eyes when she noticed he was holding the black tie in his right hand. "Oh, good God, princess. Give me that." She ripped the tie out of his hand and stepped closer to him. "Now hold still. I'm not gonna choke you or anything…unless you piss me off and prompt me to do that."

Jack stood rigid and lifted his chin slightly as she wrapped the tie around his neck and began tying it. He looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact with her out of shame as she helped primp him up.

Maddie shook her head and sighed as she worked her magic. "It's like you've never worn a suit before or something…but then again, I wouldn't expect much of you anyways. But a man who doesn't know how to tie a tie? That's madness."

He scoffed and glanced down at her. "I've never had the occasion to wear a suit. That and I just don't care to own one."

She chuckled as she finished with the tie. "I stand by my previous statement, boy." She adjusted the collar of his shirt and his jacket, giving him a one-over and grinning. She stepped back to admire him and her handiwork. "There. You look like a gentleman…well, as much of a gentleman as you'll be."

"Thanks," he responded with utmost sincerity as he looked her in the eyes. He could've sworn he saw a flash of what looked like an affectionate gleam in her brown ovals, but then she masked it well with her face of stone as she looked away and cleared her throat. To lighten the mood and draw attention away from her embarrassment, he asked, "Why do you never wear women's clothes? You afraid of looking too feminine, or what?"

She was taken off guard by the random question; she blinked several times before answering, "Oh…uh…I guess it just suits me better. Bonnie wanted me to wear one of her black dresses today, and I took one look at it and said, "Hell no", and that was that. Don't get me wrong, dresses are nice and all, but they sure as hell don't suit me well."

"You never know about things like that, Maddie. You might be able to pull off a dress. I'm wearin' a suit right now, and yet I thought I'd never wear one in my entire life, much less supposedly look good in one."

The look of affection flashed across her face as she looked him in the eyes and said softly, "Well, you do…surprisingly."

He inclined his head to her in appreciation. "Thanks." He couldn't hold the gaze, however, when he grew embarrassed, and he looked away over in the direction of the funeral. He motioned over to the gathering crowd of ranch hands with a jerk of his head and said, "Come on. Let's head over there so we won't be late."

Maddie nodded without looking at him. Without another word, she led the way to the funeral service, with Jack trailing behind.

The men and women of the ranch had gathered behind the barn, right underneath the large oak tree that neared the edge of the property. Everyone was clad in black, with the women wearing veils and holding handkerchiefs to their faces as they wept. All of the men were holding their hats in their hands out of respect for the dead. Three holes had been dug and made ready beneath the shade of the tree; a wagon and horse sat waiting somberly nearby with the three coffins in tow. Bonnie stood alongside her father Drew and her husband Nathaniel before the large gathering crowd of ranch hands, who had all congregated into a half-circle around the funeral. Conversation had all but ceased to exist; only the sigh of the breeze across the plains and through the leaves could be heard. All was still, and no one wished to break the fragile peace.

Jack was surprised to finally see Bonnie's husband; he hadn't seen him once since he came to the ranch. He still looked to be the same silent man, rough around the edges and quietly observing his surroundings. He wore a black suit and tie. He was uncommonly handsome, with short black hair and a neat beard and mustache. He had the commanding presence of a well-off, respectable man. He emitted a strong aura of silent but obedient consent from all who knew him and a portrait of steadfast masculinity. He was educated, logical, and calculated. _He looks just like Bonnie's father_, Jack couldn't help but think. And it was true: both men had the same heavy forehead, thick facial hair, beady, scrutinizing eyes, and a strong build. Still, Nathaniel had an edgy quality to him that Jack couldn't discern. A part of this man's character unnerved him and reminded him of a lawman and his distrust in them; if he would've been wearing his pistol at the time, he would've placed a wary hand on it. _What does Bonnie see in this man? He's just…different. They don't seem right for each other. _He shook his head, dismissing the controversial thoughts that plundered his mind. Subsequently, as he and Maddie approached him, Bonnie, and Drew, he immediately hid his concerns behind a mask of cold, passive observation. It was the only thing he knew best when it came to dealing with such strong emotional times; it was the only way he was able to endure and overcome it on an external level.

Nathaniel, Drew, and Bonnie greeted him and Maddie with small nods and weak grins of acknowledgement. Drew was the first to offer his hand to him and begin the pleasantries.

"It's good to have you here with us, Jack," he murmured in his deep, booming voice.

Jack took his hand and shook it, nodding and returning the half-hearted smile. "Thank you, Mister MacFarlane. Glad I could be here. How have you been? You look well, considering. It's been a while since I've seen you."

"I'm doin' well enough, as it were," Drew replied in a sad sigh. "I'm gettin' along in my years, so it's harder for me to get around, so I just stay in the house mostly and do what I can. I'm glad my daughter has the same spirit and work ethic as I did when I was her age; otherwise, this ranch would've been run down by now." He rested a meaty hand on the young man's shoulder, seemingly engulfing it as he looked him over and added, "You look better since the last time I saw you. Hell, that's been _months _ago now, but I'm glad you're finally gettin' back on your feet after all that Bonnie's told me about you. It's _really _good to see you, Jack."

"You, too, sir. Thank you."

They shared a brief moment of reunion and recognition, exchanging small smiles and looking in each other's eyes before Drew turned to Maddie and embraced her in an engulfing hug. She seemed ridiculously small in his arms. It looked as if he were hugging a grandchild.

"Thank God you're all right, Maddie," Drew said softly. "If I would've lost you yesterday, it would be like losin' Bonnie."

"It takes more than mere bullets to get rid of me," she responded as they released each other. She gave him a comforting grin and patted his arms. "You know as well as I do that I don't go down without a fight."

"But you're not invincible, Maddie," Jack added softly, his eyes fixating on her wounds.

She turned to him and lifted her chin defiantly. "I know that."

He gave her a questioning look and cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Do you?"

The menacing glare she gave him made him shut his mouth and shun her seething gaze. Instead, he looked to Nathaniel, who stood at Drew's left, and offered a hand to him.

"It's good to see you, Nathaniel," he offered, extending his hand toward the quiet, cold man. "Haven't seen you in a long while. What you been up to?"

The man looked at him like that of a despicable creature; the corner of his lip curled up in slight disgust, and his blue eyes iced over with distrust. Apparently, he didn't think too much of Jack, now that he was an outlaw and a slave on the ranch he hoped to take over rather soon. It was a wonder that he had the stomach to shake Jack's hand and meet gazes with him. The words seemed forced when they came out of his thin lips. "Business has been rather slow at the moment, with the threat of those cattle rustlers about. But now that they've been dealt with, I imagine things will pick back up and I can return to my bookkeeping and figures. I suppose we have you to thank for that."

"Hey, he wasn't the only one to liberate the ranchers around these parts," Maddie pitched in, her voice growing dark as she looked at Nathaniel with as much disgust as he did looking at Jack. She stared him down for a moment, as if she wanted to put the fear of God in him as she demanded recognition from his sorry hide. "Need I remind you all of us here at the ranch work hard so that you don't have to? Joshua, Ira, and Bill knew of such things, and they lived their lives well. Give credit where it's due, not just to one man, but to _all of us _here at _Bonnie's _ranch."

The air between them was shrouded with an invisible thundercloud, darkening the mood with the threat of a torrential argument. The icy silence nearly sent a lightening strike of words, if not fists, between the man and woman, and if it weren't for Bonnie speaking up when she did, there would've surely been a fight. Sensing the growing hostility between her friend and husband, the older woman stepped between them, pushing her spouse away as she spoke up nervously.

"Come on, everyone. It's time for the service to begin. Let's not waste our time with such useless conversation when we should be honoring our friends."

The hatred between Maddie and Nathaniel lingered. Jack had to pull her away: her rigid body language and the malicious glare she threw at Bonnie's husband prompted him to intercede and drag her off to the side. It only took a moment for her to regain her self-control and stifle her hubris, and when she did, she shrugged his hand off her right shoulder and walked off toward the opposite side of the group of mourners, across from Nathaniel and as far as away from him as possible. When they were out of earshot, Jack leaned in and murmured, "What was that all about?"

She glared down at her boots, keeping her weight on her left leg and grimacing all the while, whether out of pain or anger he did not know. "Nathaniel and I have never much gotten along well," she whispered back with a voice like venom. "He's a lazy, well-to-do prick who thinks he's above everyone else. And he isn't the man I'd like to see married to Bonnie; he's hardly here on the ranch, and when he is, he walks around acting like he owns the place. Sure, Bonnie and him are married, but everyone around here doesn't call her Mrs. Jones, and he sure as hell hasn't earned his spurs to be considered a part of this place, anyway. He's almost always in Blackwater, dealing with the affairs of the ranch, among other things." She looked him in the eyes with the utmost seriousness. "I can bet you any kind of money he's doin' more than just "bookkeeping"."

He felt his eyes widen in disbelief. "What, are you suggesting he…_cheats _on Bonnie?"

She nodded curtly, pursing her lips. "He's a lyin' son of a bitch, and if I ever find out if my assumptions are correct, I will NOT hesitate to castrate that bastard and make him eat his own manhood."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," he chuckled darkly. "But how can you be so sure he's a cheat?"

She shook her head, determined to prove herself right. "He's NEVER around, and when he is, he's hardly the caring, devoted husband Bonnie tells herself he is. A husband should _always _be there for his wife and love her and treat her like she's the queen of his world, not abandon her to go off to a town a day's ride away and supposedly "work" there, or treat her like a stranger whenever he comes back to a home that isn't his. I _hate _to see Bonnie so alone and sad most of the time, and it's his goddamn fault! She doesn't show it, and she sure as hell doesn't accept it, but the truth is right there in front of her and she won't fucking bring herself to see it! Someday, the truth will be set free, and when it does, it's gonna _crush _her. I _know _it will, and I _can't stand_ the thought of that when it happens."

Jack was about to answer when he stopped and looked up as the funeral began. Bonnie stood before the crowd, her hands folded neatly in front of her and her gaze drifting from person to person. She looked lost for words for the speech she was about to give; however, that didn't discourage her as she began hesitantly:

"We're all gathered here today to honor the three brave men we lost yesterday, all three of which we knew were some of the best and brightest workers here on this ranch. Joshua, Ira, and Bill were some of the hardest-working, devoted, and liveliest men here. Anyone standing before me can vouch for how good these men were, and to see their lives end in such tragic ways is beyond the count of grief for all of us gathered here. Joshua came to this ranch a starving and unemployed orphan, barely able to walk, but we helped him get back on his feet, and he was as happy as ever to be here on the ranch and become a part of our family. Bill was…well, Bill. He yammered and questioned to no end, as we all know, but he was the sharpest man ever to date. And Ira…oh, brave Ira…He came looking for work after his tribe was killed and found his place amongst us, despite the color of his skin. All three were great men, full of spirit and unanswered questions that, in the end, just faded away from knowledge. And so today, we lay these men to rest and honor them the best way we know how."

She stepped back to join her husband and father, allowing one of the ranch hands to step forward. He held a Bible in his hands, and though he wasn't dressed for the part, he began to read from the Holy Book, effectively beginning the service.

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit…"

The instant the stand-in preacher began, Jack felt himself tuning out. God and religion seemed pointless to him now; with so much death and heartache that had occurred to him, and that he had caused, it was almost impossible for him to not become an atheist. _As if Jesus and all that would help them now_, he thought with a sour frown on his lips. He stood beside Maddie with his hands intertwined neatly in front of him and his head bowed in silent pondering, if not respect for the service. _How can these people believe in such things and read such a book? What's the point of it all if everything comes to a bitter end? Here I am, alive and well, standing before these three dead men who died horrible deaths and were as innocent as anyone could be, especially Joshua, and me being the outlaw and the sinner, I wasn't even shot or hurt or nothin'. It's all nonsense; nothing is as it should be. It's all a pile of bullshit lies and deceit. _He scoffed internally and shook his head. _Why wasn't I shot or killed? If God exists, then why didn't he have me die as a way of penance for all the bad shit I've done? And why was Maddie shot? Why didn't she die as well? She's pretty much the deliverer of justice, so why is it that she got hurt and almost bled to death? It should've been me to die out there on the prairie instead of Bill, Joshua, and Ira. I should've been the one shot in the head, for all the things I've done and said, it would've been the right way for things to have gone. But it didn't, so what now? What does it all mean, if only a poor joke and a disappointment for me, for all of us? I'll never understand why people believe in something as fictitious as a soul or redemption or Heaven or Hell…_His grief reached a climax as he came to a daunting conclusion: _It's all my fault, just by me being here on the ranch. It _has _to be the explanation, otherwise what else can it be? I am the bane of this ranch and all who live and work here._

So consumed in his grief and self-pity was he that he didn't realize the group of mourners had dispersed, and he was the last man standing before the graves. The coffins had been buried, the grave-markers driven into the ground, and the flowers laid on top of the mounds of dirt. Jack blinked, not comprehending how fast the service must have gone by or how he wasn't able to discern what was going on during it. He gasped when he felt a tear run down his cheek; he hadn't realized he was on the verge of weeping. Hastily, he wiped the side of his face with the back of his hand and cleared his throat, hardening himself to the angry, cold-hearted young man he usually shown to the world around him.

Soft footsteps approached him; Maddie came to stand by his left side. "You okay, Jack?" she asked quietly, giving him a concerned one-over.

He sniffed and kept his gaze locked on the graves. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You didn't look too fine during the funeral. You looked as if you were lost to all of us in some faraway memory."

He kept silent, unable to respond as a hard lump formed in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it refused to budge.

Maddie sniffed and returned her hat to her head, tugging it down low over her face. The wind softly sighed all around them, making the leaves and branches somberly wave and sway. Somewhere, the birds had begun to sing. A horse trumpeted a loud neigh. Footfalls and small-talk drifted to their ears as the ranch hands continued with chores. All around them, time moved on. Nature had briefly halted for the funeral, but now life had to continue, and it did.

Jack glanced over at her. "Are you okay?" he questioned affectionately. "You got shot up pretty bad yesterday, and you don't look so great hobbling around today."

She gave him a reassuring grin, but even then it was weakened from sorrow. "I've been shot many times over, Jack. It's nothing I've never been able to handle." She sighed greatly as she looked down at the graves before them. She shook her head in pity. "They were such good men. I'm gonna miss them."

He couldn't bring himself to speak; there was nothing he could say at that moment, even if he wanted to.

"You know, I've seen men die before, and it's something you get used to, being a bounty hunter and all, but… this…just hurts, ya know?"

He nodded.

"But then again, I don't have to tell you that. You know death better than most."

He snorted, humored in a dark and ironic way. "Yeah, that ain't no shit. I've seen it, I've experienced it, and I've caused it."

To this, she had no response. She remained silent as they stood together and stared at the graves. Minutes passed until Jack broke the silence.

"It's all my fault."

She blinked and stared over at him, her slanted eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What? How do you figure?"

"I didn't have my guns with me, and you got shot, and they got gunned down like mangy coyotes. If I would've been armed, none of this would've happened. You would be just fine, and Ira, Bill, and Joshua would be alive right now."

To his surprise, she placed her right hand on his shoulder and said softly, "Hey, don't go beatin' yourself up for something that wasn't your fault to begin with. None of us could've known when those cattle rustlers were gonna show up, neither did we know how the outcome of it all would be. We got caught off-guard. Shit happens, Jack. You of all people should know that things happen out of nowhere, and most of the time, it ends rather poorly. Same thing happened yesterday. It just happened to end in a horrible way. Like you said, "We can do nothing for them now"."

"Yes, but had I not been without my guns, none of this would've happened. Hell, if I wouldn't have been there in the first place, things would've turned out better."

"You don't know that. None of us could've predicted a thing, Jack."

He shook his head, becoming sickened by himself. "It's like death follows me everywhere I go. First it was my parents, then the fourteen people I gunned down, and now these three." He gestured to the graves with a flick of his hand.

She chortled softly and patted his shoulder. "Oh, please. It's not like you're one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. You aren't riding around on a pale horse and killing everything tangible. Come on, boy. You're blowin' this out of proportion."

He looked her in the eyes with absolute sincerity. "Am I? Is it some sort of coincidence that a lot of people have died around me? Isn't it strange how I'm here only a month and people are dropping like flies? I swear, it's like I'm cursed or something."

She scoffed and shook him lightly. "Oh, enough of you. There's no such thing. You're talking about old wives' tales, that's all. This isn't all smoke and mirrors, Jack. You know that. This is life, and this is death. This is as real as it's ever gonna get."

"_You're missing the point, Maddie!" _he shouted, turning to face her fully. He waved his right hand to the three mounds wildly as he continued, "_This _is what happens when I'm around! I. kill. people. You said so yourself that I am a bastard outlaw who enjoys killing people. Well, I do, don't I? I might not have killed them directly, but I was there when they were gunned down. _Joshua died in my arms, for Christ's sake! _The look that he gave me is something I'll NEVER be able to get out of my head! And I watched Ira die right alongside with you, so don't pretend that that is something you'll be able to shake off so easily! And Bill…well, a bullet to the head isn't something that's pretty to watch! I'll bet you any kind of money that if I wasn't there yesterday, none of this would've happened!"

"And I can bet _you _any kind of money that you're becoming hysterical and talking nonsense. Now stop this ruckus and calm down."

"But you're not _listening _to what I'm _saying!_ If I wouldn't have never been there in th-"

She seized him roughly by the shoulder with her right hand and declared, "Jack, just shut it! _It's_ _not your fault! _It never _was _your fault, so do NOT waste your time taking the blame for something that you DID NOT do!"

He looked off to the side out of shame and embarrassment.

"Jack, look at me," she commanded. When he didn't, she grabbed his face and turned his head, forcing him to look back at her. She looked him deep in the eyes, her own burning with absolution and compassion as she continued, "Listen to me. You're looking at this all wrong. Think back to when you brought me back at the ranch. That was a good deed; you acted honorably, as I mentioned before, and it's because of you that I'm still alive. If it weren't for you, I'd be buried right alongside these three men. _People die everyday, Jack. _You of all people should know that fact. And you of all people should know how to handle death, or at least I _thought _you could. I guess I was wrong, because what you're doing right now is being stupid. You're letting it get to you too much when you should be getting over it; you're over-thinking things when it should all stay simple. I know you can get over this, Marston; I know you can put on the tough guy mask and pretend like you're made of stone. Trust me, I can tell. So here's what I want you to do." She shook his head with every resolving sentence as she listed off, "You're going to man up, get over it, and move on with life. You're going to accept that they're gone and that there's nothing more that can be done over the matter. You're going to move along with life, concentrate on your work, and honor their memory and their lives by living by their example and becoming a good role model for other people. Can you do that for me?"

"I…"

"_Can you do that for me?_"

"I…I don't know if…" He took a moment to pause and sigh deeply in acceptance. "Yes."

She nodded approvingly and released him. "That's a good man, Jack." She took a step back and cleared her throat before continuing. "And you're right: you _should've_ been given your guns, but we couldn't trust you…until now."

Jack narrowed his eyebrows, not comprehending. His expression morphed into utter shock as he watched her bequeath to him a rather shabby-looking Cattleman Revolver in a ragged holster from within her duster. He numbly took it from her, his mouth dropping open as he stared up at her. "Maddie, what…?"

She held up a hand to silence him before explaining, "Because of your new-found appreciation and respect for life, as demonstrated in these past two days, I have decided I can trust you with a gun. You know when to take a life, obviously, but now it is out of better judgment. Now, you aren't inclined on acting out of spite and random blood-lust. Your act of bravery and good instinct is why I'm gonna let you use this revolver. As you continue to prove your loyalty and worthiness, I'll eventually upgrade you to your firearms, but until such time has come, you will be using this. See, even though we've lost some of our best men, and even though things have gone awry, you have come by way of sorrow to learn a lesson on mortality, and therefore have a new-found respect and appreciation for the life you live, as well as the lives of others around you." Her face grew grim as she warned, "_However_…I hope I never have to take this back from you again, Jack. You treat this firearm with _the utmost respect_, you hear? It would be a shame if I were to apprehend you again over the misuse of your weapon. And if you're going to be helping me out with bounties, you're going to need to get some target practice in."

"What?"

She nodded. "That's right. You're going to be helping me with bounties very soon, most likely in a few weeks." She nodded down at her leg and arm with a disappointed frown. "We'd be riding out within the next few days if it weren't for my unfortunate injuries, but give me at least a couple weeks and I'll be ready to go. Then we'll ride out and bag your first bounty."

"_My _first bounty?" he questioned as he strapped on his gun. "What, am I going after bounties as further recompense or something?"

She nodded. "Now you're catching on. Yes, you're going to go after bounties. I called the sheriff in Armadillo and talked to him about this. He has agreed to let this happen on account that you bring in a bounty for every person you've killed. A life for a life. It's only fair."

"Oh…"

"Not to mention you owe Bonnie money. She bailed you out of jail, you know. You owe her a thousand dollars for that alone, seeing as she paid what you were worth in bounty money and had to do a hell of a lot of haggling to get across the sheriff and let her bring you back here. Plus, you owe her for the clothes she's provided for you, the food she's made for you, as well as boarding your nag in the barn. You must pay her back, boy. You know this."

"In bounty money, no less?"

"Yes. You must pay for everything in this world one way or another…We must each of us bear our own misfortunes."

"Christ, do I know it," he chuckled to himself.

A long paused ensued between them as their gazes returned to the graves. For the time being, words weren't necessary, and the freedom to ponder over their conversation and take in the peace by the graves was comforting.

"They were gonna hang you, you know," Maddie said quietly, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she untied and unbraided her hair. "Right in front of every family you've ruined." She ran a quick hand through her long locks, combing lazily through it before pocketing the black ribbon that had bound it back.

"I know," he murmured back, bowing his head and letting the wind finger through his long hair. He chuckled darkly as he glanced at her and added, "You're probably wishin' they would have. It would've saved you and Bonnie a hell of a lot of trouble. I _am _quite the worthless son of a bitch, you know." He couldn't help but notice the slight waviness her hair held; it added to her already dazzling beauty.

"That isn't entirely true, Marston." She smiled quirkily at him. "You're doing my chores for me, plus it's nice to boss around a greenhorn and whip you into shape whenever necessary."

He rolled his eyes, playing along. "Why, thank you, Miss Maddie. You sure do know how to make a man tear up."

She snorted through her nose before she looked him over with a curious look. "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" he asked, locking eyes with her.

"Killing all those people a month back."

He stared at her, dumbfounded and cut to the core. His heart bleeding from the wound that had just barely begun to scab over, he cleared his throat and looked down at the ground at the foot of the graves. His fingers fiddled uncomfortably with his suit jacket; the wind seemed to intensify as it began to toss about his hair and the leaves above him.

"Yes and no."

She blinked. "Why no?"

A troubled frown pulled down the corners of his mouth as he thought how best to word his explanation. "A part of me still thinks what I did was justified, you know, killing all those lawmen. But…"

She limped closer to him, her eyes carefully studying his expression. "But?"

He lifted his gaze up to the graves and sighed greatly, gesturing to them with a nod. "But I see these graves, and it makes me think of how frail life is, that all of this has been in vain…that it was all just a waste."

"And the woman? Do you regret killing her?"

"Absolutely," he said as he looked back into her eyes. "She was innocent…and I killed her like it was nothing. She just popped out of nowhere, and I was itching for more blood I guess, so I shot her down right in the moment, right there in the street, and she dropped like a bird getting shot in flight." He shrugged pitifully to himself. "I guess I _am _my father's son," he admitted.

She searched his eyes with hers, looking for some other explanation other than the one he gave her. Sadness, pity, and disgust plagued her beautiful face. The multitude of emotions that mixed all into one incoherent countenance baffled and entranced Jack; all he could do was stand there and allow himself to not only become swallowed in his grief but also enraptured by his adoration and mystification of her.

At long last, when the moment was too much for her, she turned away with a slight frown, looking as if she too was confused by her emotions. She half-turned, half-limped back around, facing the barn and the rest of the ranch, and nudged his arm with hers. "Come on, Marston. We've got work to do." As fast as she could muster, she limped forward, her black duster swaying jerkily along with her stiff, almost uncoordinated movements.

"Maddie, wait."

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Does…Does Bonnie think it's my fault?" he asked honestly.

She blinked, obviously not expecting such a question from him. She shrugged and shook her head in response. "I honestly don't know, Jack. A part of me thinks she blames herself for it…for sending all of us out there and not giving you a gun. You're not the only one fighting for the rights to be blamed for all this, even if it is all pointless banter."

He drunk in her words, absorbing every syllable and mulling it over in his mind.

"You need to go talk to her."

He scoffed. "I don't think she'd want me to, Maddie. She already seems pretty upset."

"I know, but still…You should go talk to her. I've already thrown in my two cents with her, and she _still _feels bad. Maybe you could talk some sense into that strong-willed woman. I've tried, and even though I'm usually successful, this time has become the exception."

He nodded resolutely, determined to make it right. "I'll try tonight after chores."

She smiled approvingly. "Good."

"But only if you're there with me."

"Fine. Now let's get you out of that suit and back into your shit clothes."

* * *

The living room was eerily quiet, save for the sound of strong alcohol being poured into shot glasses. Jack sat watching the brownish-gold liquid spill into the three glasses that were sitting in a row on the coffee table before him. He hadn't given alcohol much thought since he and Maddie walked into the house after chores to confide in and alongside Bonnie. But now, as he looked at the whiskey gleaming brightly before him, drinking didn't sound like that bad of an idea.

_Why not? _he thought somberly. _All we can do now is drink to their memory. _He took up the shot glass and threw it back without a gasp or a sputter at the potency of the drink. It burned pleasantly as it splashed down his throat.

Beside him on the couch, Maddie sat staring despondently at her shot as well, her elbows resting heavily on her knees and her hair falling down her back and shoulders, acting as if a curtain of sorrow. She had tugged her hat down so low all Jack could see of her face was her nose, pursed lips, and small, round chin. She was struggling, he could tell, but she never once broke character. For her to break down and weep would be something unheard of, and Jack knew she'd be too stubborn and proud to let that happen. Mechanically, she reached out and took the shot glass in between her index finger and thumb. She too threw it back like it was nothing more than mountain water. Wearily, she banged the glass back down on the table and sat back in the couch with a mournful sigh.

Across from him and Maddie, Bonnie flinched and looked up at her silent companion. "Maddie, don't go dentin' my coffee table. Otherwise, I'll have you make me a new one." Like her companions did before her, she hoisted up her shot glass and downed it without a cough.

Maddie nodded ever so slightly. It was barely a movement of recognition on her part; she didn't look to be in a listening mood, much less be completely there when spoken to.

Without spoken consent, Bonnie refilled the glasses before setting the bottle back down. "It's too bad Daddy turned in early tonight. He would've had a drink or two with us."

"It's a good thing that Drew's in bed, Bonnie," Maddie spoke up, sitting up on the couch as she reached for her glass. She picked it up and added, "This day has been especially hard on him. He employed all three of those men himself, and he's watched them grow like you and I have on the ranch. Some time soon, we should all retire as well. Lord knows we need it."

Jack and Bonnie shared accepting nods and glances. A somber silence grew between the trio; they kept themselves busy by taking their shots and staring off into space in different directions.

"So Nathaniel went back to Blackwater, I suppose?" Maddie asked suddenly, her voice growing cold as she spoke up. She looked at Bonnie with a blank expression and waited for her assumptions to be proven true.

To her and Jack's surprise, Bonnie shook her head and replied softly, "No, he's asleep upstairs. He's agreed to stay with me for a couple more days. He understands it's going to be a tough time for me and for all of us here on the ranch."

"Hmm," Maddie reflected with a bemused snort as she looked at the empty glass in her hands. She rotated her wrist and studied how the light from the chandelier above them reflected on the surface of her glass. "I'm shocked to see that he is staying for so long a time. Usually, he's in such a hurry to head back to that bustling town." She flicked her gaze up to watch Bonnie closely, waiting for any signs of reaction from her older friend.

"Nathaniel isn't the devil incarnate, Maddie," Bonnie said, her blonde eyebrows narrowing over her puffy blue eyes. She had been crying earlier but hadn't admitted to it. "He's a better husband than you care to acknowledge or give credit for."

To this, Maddie had no response. She kept her blank expression on her face, though it was apparent she wanted to say something back. Nevertheless, she held her tongue as she sat the shot glass down on the table and crossed her right leg over her left, resting the side of her boot on her knee.

"Well, it's good that he's staying with you," Jack offered, joining in on the conversation. He felt the need to say something, especially after how quickly the atmosphere changed between the women. "A husband needs to be with his wife, especially in times such as this."

Maddie fidgeted in her seat and bit down on her lip, refraining from interjecting with a negative comment. She sniffed loudly and looked off to the side, her eyes mere slits of quiet outrage.

Jack looked her over with concern and confusion but otherwise didn't voice it as he continued, "And besides, it's good that everyone will be together during all this."

"And I am grateful for that," Bonnie replied, choosing to ignore her friend's silent inner battle as she looked at Jack. She took up the bottle of whiskey and filled up Maddie's glass, as well as her own. "Jack, do you…?" She paused, flicking her gaze up at him before shrugging and finishing with a scoff, "You're a Marston. Never mind." As she poured him a shot, Jack snorted and nodded in amused compliance.

As the three took another round and sat in the resigned reticence, the night waxed and waned outside; the cries and wails of nocturnal creatures became the ambiance of the dark world; the silvery moon and never-ending sheet of stars above were like night lights. All was still: even the wind had died down to no more than a whisper, an echo of what it was before during the day. A chill had begun to rise and cloak over the land, setting deep into the unprotected bodies of humans and animals alike; autumn was fast approaching, and it was at last making its presence known to all that night.

The occasional sniff and despairing sigh interrupted the painful silence in the house; Jack couldn't help but look the two women over with an aching heart and a helpless frown. He too felt their pain, but he wasn't as willing to show it. Still, it grieved him to see them suffering. He studied Bonnie for a time: tears welled in her blue eyes, her lower lip trembled, and she continued to run her hands over her face. Bags pulled down at her face from under her eyes, sure signs of her physical and emotional exhaustion. Maddie, on the other hand, was fairing considerably better than her elder. She too showed signs of depression in her body language: she slouched heavily into the couch, her hat and hair still obscuring the majority of her face from his sight, and from what he little he could see, she kept the same rigid, placid look. Occasionally, she let slip her emotions; her lip would tremble and she'd catch herself tearing up slightly. Very quickly, she'd mask her emotions, playing it off as she cleared her throat or sniffed. But at last, the silence was quite enough for her.

She stood up abruptly, bringing herself up using only her left leg. She put no weight on her right leg, for fear of it buckling and sending her tumbling to the floor. She fished out a cigar and matches from one of the inner pockets of her duster.

"Maddie?" Bonnie spoke up, her voice tight with sadness. She wiped tears away with her hand as she looked up at her friend. "What are you…?"

"I'm gonna go have a smoke."

"You want some company?" Jack asked hesitantly. He leaned forward in his seat, ready to stand by her side the instant she consented.

She shook her head and looked down and back at him over her shoulder. All he could see was the bottom portion of her face; her full, succulent lips were pursed, her chin indenting and tightening. "No, I think I'll sit outside by myself for a while, if you don't mind."

Disappointment ebbed through his heart; however, he did his best not to let it get to him as he nodded and said despondently, "Well, alright, then." He sat back in the couch and watched her leave, overcome with guilt.

Her dark hair billowed and her black duster trailed behind her as she crossed the room; however, they swayed to a stand-still as she paused at the threshold. She sighed heavily and pinched the base of her nose to stop the tears from flowing. Her shoulders fell from the force of her exhale. She took off her hat and comforted herself by running a hand through her hair; she let herself lean heavily against the door frame. A miniscule sob escaped her, but she covered it up by clearing her throat loudly as she limped out onto the porch. The moonlight and starlight silhouetted her in a dreary light as she made her way over to the rocking chair. Her boots thudded painfully loud in the quiet night, resounding out into the wild like gunshots. Her spurs clinked with every limping step. She grabbed the chair with both hands, steadying herself as she turned her body halfway around before heavily sitting down in the chair. The wood creaked and yelped, cutting through the air and making Jack flinch. She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth when she accidentally put weight on her injured leg; she had haphazardly used it to steady herself into the chair…but with repercussions. She panted at the flare, but once she was settled and calm, she breathed slowly before lighting her cigar and taking a few soothing puffs. She released the smoke in a bluish-grey tendril, coiling and dancing in the air around and above her before eventually dissipating.

Jack watched her intently, fascinated by her emotional strength. _But she has _got _to be feelin' miserable at least_, he thought. _There's no way she's that strong…or is she? Hell, she's the toughest woman I've ever met, but even the strongest people have weak points. _To prove himself right, he concentrated on what little of her face he could see, and from what he could tell, she was struggling more-so than when she was in the room with him and Bonnie. Now, it was a physical battle: her body shivered from not only the biting chill of the night but from the force of her sadness. Her lips quivered as she opened them to place the cigar back into her mouth. She seemed desperate to keep herself busy. When she released the smoke, it streamed out in front of her as she exhaled harshly.

_If only I could make you feel better_, he thought with a small sigh and a shake of his head. He tore his eyes away from her long enough to glance back at Bonnie. He motioned to Maddie with a nod as he whispered, "Will she be okay?"

Bonnie nodded, once again wiping her eyes. She sniffled loudly before answering, "She's tougher than anyone I know. I don't really remember ever seeing her cry, but if I ever did, I'm pretty sure it was next to nothing. She is quite the hard woman. She has a heart of steel and a mask of iron."

He looked from Maddie to Bonnie and back indecisively. "Do you think I should¾?"

"Leave her be, Jack. She's better off alone for now. If she would've wanted comfort, she'd have asked for it, and even then, I don't think she would have. Let the cowgirl have her space."

His eyes were once again fixated on the struggling, smoking young woman shivering outside in the rocking chair. "Has she always been so tough?"

She nodded as she stood up and walked over to him. She sat down beside him on the couch and peered out at Maddie as well, studying her. "For as long as I've known her, yeah, she has been. She's been through a lot." She shook her head with pity. "The poor girl."

"She sort of told me yesterday before…" He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. "What happened to her, really?" He turned his attention to the older woman; he looked into her blue eyes and waited for an honest answer, suddenly hungry to know all about his supervisor.

"I shouldn't be the one to tell you, Jack. It's not my place, and it certainly isn't my story."

"She hasn't told me everything…just that her ma's dead and she hates her pa."

She elbowed him gently in the arm, shoving him slightly to the right. She beckoned him with a nod over to Maddie and breathed, "Go talk to her in about an hour or so. Maybe she'll be in a talking mood by then. Besides, I'm sure she'll want to hear your story as well. You'll come to realize just how much you and her are alike. It could shock you, Jack."

He merely frowned and stared off to the side, not knowing what to say.

Bonnie looked back at her friend with a sudden fondness. A soft smile graced her lips as she said, "She's helped me so much on my ranch; she's _such _a good woman and my best friend. Hell, she might as well be my daughter, and to tell you the truth, I'd gladly adopt her."

"You already have, Bonnie," Jack chuckled back. "Hell, you're like an aunt to me. Don't forget that you're a good woman, too. That's somethin' that'll _never _change."

She patted his back and gave him an appreciative smirk. "Thank you, Jack. You can be a sweetheart when you want to be."

"That's the thing, Miss MacFarlane, I usually don't try." Ashamed and embarrassed, he lowered his eyes to the floor, bowing his head and intertwining his fingers between his knees. He felt a sudden confession forcing its way up his throat, and he didn't know how best to word it or how to handle it. "I…I know I haven't been the best man to work with, or the most cooperative. I haven't been treating you or Maddie the best this past month, but…I'll tell you right now that that's gonna change. You two have certainly earned my respect, so it's only fair that I give it back. Fair is fair."

She nodded. "Fair is fair," she repeated. She wrapped an arm over his shoulders and drew him into a slight hug. "Thank you for understanding, Jack. You might not realize it or acknowledge it, but you've grown so much in so little time. Your parents would be very proud of you. I know I am." She squeezed his shoulders and shook him in a friendly manner.

He beamed up at her. "Thanks, Bonnie."

The red glow of Maddie's cigar caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head and stared at her silhouette. White smoke drifted and swarmed mystifyingly around her, catching the moonlight brilliantly and encasing her in a haunting glow. The cherry of the cigar burned brightly in the night, a small, fiery beacon of life in the darkness.

"She reminds me of Ma so much," he confessed in a whisper. Unexpectedly, his throat tightened. He began to tear up from the wave of emotions and memories of his past. "I…I miss her…And Pa, too."

Tears streamed down Bonnie's cheeks as she tightened her embrace around him. "I miss them, too, Jack. They were good people."

Not trusting his voice for fear of it cracking, he nodded in reply and bit down on his lip. He screwed his eyes shut tight. It was almost too much for him, but he was practiced in holding everything in by now. To be sure he wouldn't be tempted to show the wreck of emotions tormenting him from within, he kept his eyes on Maddie.

Bonnie followed his gaze and looked her friend over with scrutinizing eyes. She sniffed. "She's as feisty, if not more, than your ma was, that's for sure. She's got spirit, and she's like your pa, too. She's just as deadly with a gun and just as good a rider as he was. And she's a hell of a hard worker."

"She's honorable like he was," Jack added, his voice a low tremor. He swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

"Yes, she is. That's why you and her get along so well. Like I said before, you two are a lot alike."

"I suppose so, Bonnie." He leaned forward and grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. He threw back the shot hastily, sighing afterwards and staring at the empty glass with disdain. He spun it around in his hands, thinking on their conversation and marveling at its purity and deepness. He was close to Bonnie, but up until now, he hadn't had this close of a talk with her. It was refreshing and thought-provoking.

He glanced back up at Maddie and watched her for a time; she still struggled out there in the cold, keeping her sorrow at bay as she busied herself with her cigar. She looked lost in time, taken away by memories of days gone by: he could see her lips were still pursed, perhaps in thought. She had moved her hair to the other side, drawing it over to her right shoulder and draping it down her arm like a half-cloak. He now could see her face. Her eyebrows were faintly narrowed over her squinting brown eyes that were glossed over in recollection. She looked miserable as her past came back to haunt her; she wasn't invincible to whatever life had dealt her years ago. Slowly, tears began to form in her eyes.

With a resolving nod, Jack set the shot glass down on the table and rose to his feet, his eyes never drifting from Maddie. "I'm gonna go have a smoke, too," he said resolutely, despite the fact that he had no cigarettes on his person.

Bonnie stood as well, wiping her face yet again. "Good luck, Jack. I think I'm gonna turn in for the night. It's been a long day, and I'm tired of everything that has happened." She pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his shoulder.

Jack returned the hug, patting her back in reassurance. "Good night, Bonnie. Get some sleep."

"You, too, Jack. Night."

They released each other after a lingering moment. Jack watched her wearily climb the stairs before disappearing around the corner and presumably retiring to her and Nathaniel's room; her boots thudded softly on the carpet and eventually faded out of existence as she most likely climbed into bed with her husband. Suddenly, the house was morbidly silent. Taking his leave, as well as the bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses, Jack headed outside to join Maddie on the porch.

His boots thumped unbearably loud as he stepped out onto the porch; the front door creaked as loud and eerily as a screech owl's call. Wincing at the overbearing noises, he came to stand beside her, awkwardly holding the bottle in one hand and the shot glasses in the other. Clearing his throat, he looked down at her and asked softly, "Need a shot?"

She nodded jerkily, blinking away her tears and putting on a stone-faced expression. "Sure," she said weakly. She frowned at the frailty of her response, so she cleared her throat and adjusted herself in her seat. She took a hearty puff of her cigar and let out the smoke slowly and with practiced perfection.

Jack played as bartender by setting the shot glasses on the porch railing and pouring the alcohol into them. He handed her a glass; she took it from him and threw it back without any hesitation. He had to laugh at this as he raised his glass and said, "Cheers," before taking his shot.

His amusement turned to shock when she beckoned for the bottle. Daftly, he gave it to her, only to be amazed when she lifted the bottle to her lips and took several large gulps. She paused to breathe before lifting the bottle once more.

"Wait a minute, ya alcoholic," he joked as he took it away from her. "Let me have some at least." Disregarding his shot glass as well, he took a few drinks from the bottle. He gazed down at his somber companion with concern and stepped closer to her. "You feelin' any better?"

She shook her head, her face dropping from sadness. She looked absolutely miserable; Jack reckoned the alcohol wasn't helping, either. "No," she breathed, her voice shaking. "But then again, when have I ever felt better?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she said sharply, her demeanor changing instantly to anger. Her hand shot out and clutched the whiskey bottle faster than Jack could react; she yanked it out of his grasp and took a drink before he could comprehend. Sighing, she said, "I knew those men well. They were all such great people, all hard workers, and very reliable." She shook her head before drinking more of the potent alcohol. She held the bottle out to Jack as she murmured, "I'm gonna miss them."

"I think we all will, Maddie," he responded as he accepted the whiskey from her. He took a swig and watched her intently out of the corner of his eye, noting how despairingly she stared out into the distance with the most utterly depressed and outraged expression imaginable.

"It's always the good people that die the most horrible deaths, that live the shortest lives," she hissed with an angry shake of her head. "It's all fucking bullshit, Jack."

Not realizing it, Jack reached around her back and affectionately rested a hand on her right shoulder. "I know, Maddie. It's unfair, and it hurts. Trust me, I know how life is." He wanted to bring her closer to himself, but he thought better of it because he knew what she was capable of and what she'd say to him. Still, it was nice to touch her.

She seemed to not mind his touch, either, but rather welcomed it. She glanced down at his hand with the softest grin, a flash of appreciation and affection, before she looked back out at the plains with a sour frown and ranted on. "Those men were so damn young, too. They still had their lives ahead of them, and they got killed off so…so…MERCILESSLY!" Angrily, she flicked the grey stem of ash off the end of her cigar, nearly disposing of the cherry as well in her outrage, before she hastily brought the cigar to her mouth and took several refreshing puffs. She let the smoke fly out of her mouth as she exhaled haughtily and continued, "It's like their lives meant _nothing _at all, to be smote so easily off this world in a split second. It's like they _didn't fucking matter_."

Jack squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Maddie, don't say that. They DID matter. You know damn well that they did. They were amazing young men, and anyone back there could've been killed. _You and I _could've easily been gunned down, just as easily as they were or the cattle rustlers themselves. You know that."

Greedily, furiously, she took the bottle from him again and went to chug more.

"Jesus, Maddie!" Jack exclaimed as he took it away from her and held it above her reach. "That's quite enough! My God, you're gonna drink yourself sick."

Her eyes seared into his as she glared up at him. "I'll do whatever I fuckin' well please, even if it means drinking myself to ruin." With a considerable amount of effort, she stood up, once again using only her left leg to lift up her body, and she stood quite close to him as she placed her hand back onto the bottle, her hand overlapping Jack's.

Despite the sudden flip he felt his heart perform, Jack returned the glare and held it further away from her. "Don't be a fool now, Maddie. You won't do that to yourself. I'm even gonna make sure of it."

"Give me that bottle, damn it," she hissed through her teeth.

"What the hell's it gonna do for ya?" he retorted with a disappointed scowl. "You're gettin' a little out of hand here. Just sit back down and relax. Trust me, drinkin' yourself till you puke or black out doesn't help you get over things like this. It's not worth it."

He could tell his words struck a deep, hurtful chord in her heart. She looked indecisively at the bottle, then back up at him, her eyebrows furrowing and a contemplative frown forming across her lips. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and her eyes glossed over as she became lost in her memories and thoughts. After a lingering moment, she bowed her head in acceptance and took her hand off his and the bottle he held. She limped backwards and sat back into the chair with a sigh, glancing back up at the bottle with disgust before she looked away and took a reflective puff off her cigar.

"You're right, Jack," she confessed, more to herself than to him as her eyes continued to cloud over in reminiscence. She propped her right elbow up on the armrest, holding the cigar aloft. She stared off into the darkness without seeing what was in front of her. "I won't go drinking myself to oblivion just because this all happened. I'm better than that…I won't become a drunkard like my father was."

Jack set aside the empty shot glasses (retrieving Maddie from her in the process) further down the railing before he sat on top of it. He sat facing her, watching her intently as she talked in a hushed voice. He drunk in her words, becoming intoxicated by them and by her beauty. Without moving his gaze from her, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took another sip before asking, "So…why was he a drunkard?"

She refused to look at him as she replied softly, "When my mother died, he turned to drink. It was his whole world after she passed away, and it sure as hell exacerbated both his and my own situation. Our grief alone was crippling, and he had to go and make it worse." She glanced up at the bottle in his hands and nodded suggestively to it. "Drink the rest of that, Jack. Go ahead. It's all yours. I'll have nothing more to do with that sin in a bottle."

He nodded with a grin and chuckled, "Don't mind if I do," before taking another hearty gulp of the whiskey. To his amazement (and sadness), he realized he wasn't even feeling buzzed, even after drinking about half of it. He caught her watching him drink, and he brought the bottle down and rested it on his lap to give her a questioning look. "What?"

"I'm surprised that you know how to handle your liquor, princess. You very experienced in alcohol?"

Much to his chagrin, he nodded. "Sadly, yes…Right after Pa died, I found his stash in the house. It was hidden up in the attic; I suppose it was his emergency bourbon or something of the sort. Anyway, I was curious and looking for some sort of way to…well, cope, I guess…So I got to drinking it, and the next thing I know, Ma's found me up there drunker than a skunk, and she's furious at me and screaming bloody murder and all odds and ends of obscenities. I was sixteen at the time, and even though I don't remember much of what she said to me, I'll never forget how furious she was. Needless to say, I got quite the beating for that foolishness." He paused to take another drink. "And when she died, oh, about three or so months back, I indulged in it once again." He locked gazes with her then as he concluded gravely, "I've drunk myself till I blacked out, Maddie. It is the worst feeling waking up hung-over like that. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, especially you. So please don't do that to yourself. Ever."

She nodded enthusiastically, reassuring him. "I won't, Jack. I'm done drinking for the night...," she looked off to the side, "or a while, actually."

"Good," he said proudly before finishing the whiskey. He sat the empty bottle down beside him and the shot glasses on the railing. He could feel it now; he felt content, happy even, as if the funeral had never happened earlier that day and his grief and self-deprecation never haunted him.

"I forgot to tell you, Jack," Maddie piped up as she met eyes with him. "You're one hell of a fine shooter. You took down the rest of those cattle rustlers in lickity-split. Where'd you learn how to shoot like that?"

Jack grinned proudly down at her. "My pa. Well…I picked up on it after a while of him trying to show me. I was a lot hot-headed back then, so I didn't want him to show me. Thankfully, he was persistent, and he showed me a thing or two on gunmanship. And after he passed away, I did nothing but practice on old whiskey bottles and coyotes and wolves that tried getting to the cattle. When I wasn't doing chores or taking care of Ma, I was shooting. But then Ma got sick, and she quickly wasted away…And when she died, my gunmanship excelled after that."

Pity enveloped Maddie's brown eyes. "Oh…I see. I'm sorry, Jack."

"Yeah, it wasn't the greatest point in my life." He fiddled with a slight tear in the sleeve of his work shirt, frowning when he noticed it¾he must've snagged it either on barbed wire or some other sharp object earlier that day. He feigned aloofness, trying his best to act like the memories he depicted to her weren't contracting and seizing his heart painfully. "You're not so bad a shot yourself, miss. Where'd you learn to shoot so well?"

"Pa taught me how to handle a gun at an early age. If I remember right, I was around ten when he had me shoot a revolver. Gradually, he worked me up to the repeater I have now…He just showed me one day, and for some reason, it just clicked with me. I got it, and I defied his expectations, because it just came so naturally." She chuckled as she added, "I guess I was born to be a gunslinger."

"You wanna shoot with me some time?" Jack asked, desperately hoping she'd acquiesce.

Her eyes lit up with life for the first time that day. Even in the cloaking darkness, they glowed with joy. "Sure. I don't see why not. After all, seeing as we're gonna go bag your first bounty soon, you're gonna need all the practice you can get to prepare for it. I'm sure you're a little rusty and could use some pointers from me, anyways." She winked slyly at him as she puffed on her diminishing cigar.

He tipped back his head as he guffawed. "Ha! That's a good joke, Maddie. Are you so sure of yourself, little miss gunslinger? 'Cause if you don't mind me sayin', I bet it'll be _you _who will be needin' the pointers, not me!"

"Fat chance at that," she snorted back as she blew the smoke at him. "I'll blow you out of the water. You can be betting on _that_, princess." An amused grin grew on her lips. Her eyes ablaze with determination, she challenged, "Tomorrow, we'll see who's the better gunslinger. What say you to that, boy?"

"You're on," he said with an excited smirk.

"Just do me a favor and don't become depressed tomorrow when you lose to a woman," she chided playfully.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked incredulously, going along with her antics. "You'll be in tears after I show you up. If anything, you'll be needing more practice after I show you how it's done, little girl."

Her jaw dropped open in surprise, pretending to be offended. "That's pretty big talk coming from a scrawny piece of straw like yourself!" She nodded down to the revolver hanging at his side and asked, "Do you even know how to load that thing, much less shoot it?"

"Well, if you're so damn curious as to how it works, I'll show you how to do all that tomorrow," he shot back cleverly.

She grinned and bowed her head in approval. "Well played, princess. I see you're back in the game."

They shared a chuckle and looked each other over in unspoken gratitude, happy to have brightened the other up despite the horrid events that had happened in the past two days. The pair studied each other briefly, taking in the others facial features and emotions, gandering at how handsome the other looked in the moonlight. When they realized what they were doing, their faces grew red and they looked away in embarrassment, though a trace of a smile still lingered on their lips.

Abruptly, Maddie dropped the stubby cigar onto the porch and ground it out with her left boot. She rose up out of the chair, her left leg shaking slightly from having to carry all her weight on it for the past two days. A yawn escaped her then, and she ran a hand over her face and rubbed her eyes. "Well," she sighed, "I'm gonna turn in for the night. You should too, Jack."

Saddened that their conversation had come to an end, Jack hopped off the porch railing with a despairing sigh. Despite their enlightening talk, he grew mournful again as he thought back to all that had transpired that day. He shook his head hopelessly. "I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep well tonight, Maddie. I hardly slept last night, and I doubt that'll change."

She limped closer to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You have to try. It won't be easy for me, either, but we all need rest after all that has happened."

He nodded and looked off to the side in thought. _But how can I sleep when all I feel is guilt and sadness? And how can you, Maddie, when you look and feel so terrible? After everything that's happened to you, after getting shot twice and watching your friends die and be buried, how can you find solace, find shelter, in sleep? _He looked her in the eyes and asked tenderly, "Are you gonna be okay?"

She blinked and drew back a step and withdrawing her hand off his shoulder. Taken aback by his concern for her, she drew herself up and lifted her chin in an authoritative way. "I'll be fine. I've endured far worse things than losing fellow co-workers and friends. Don't worry about my well-being. Be more concerned with yours, Marston. Tomorrow, we start anew. To mourn and stay in the past would dishonor the men we've lost. We'll honor them by living good lives and leading good examples to others. They would want us to move on, after all."

Awed by the tenacity of her iron-will and the strength of her words, Jack stood staring at her, even after she turned and limped toward the front door. Only when she opened the door did he snap out of his wonder and ask, "Um…Maddie? What are you doing?"

She looked back at him, puzzled. "What do you mean 'what are you doing'? I'm heading to bed."

He blinked. "But…you're not gonna take me back to my cell?"

She scoffed at him. An adoring twinkle entered her eyes. "What, do you want me to hold your hand and lead you back over there? I'm pretty sure you're a big boy now and can handle that yourself. Or am I wrong?"

His cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he bit down on his lip and glanced down at the porch, trying to retain what little dignity he had left. Clearing his throat, he looked back up at her and explained, "That's not what I meant. You always lock me back in my cell at night. So…aren't you gonna lock me up?"

She laughed merrily, her voice ringing like melodious bells. "Why would I keep doing that when I know I can trust you? I think you've earned your spurs by now, so I'm not gonna go through the trouble of escorting you to your little prison every night. Besides, someone is waiting for you anyway. He'll be sure to lock you up, if that comforts you."

"Oh."

"Consider this another reward, Marston." She tipped her hat to him and smiled warmly. "Good night."

Breathless by her generosity and by her smile, he did the same back. "Good night." He watched her disappear around the door, and even after she closed it and flicked the lights off in the living room, he stood staring after her, bewildered. It was only when the night's chill had settled into his bones did he walk to the sheriff's office and turn in.


End file.
